


Dissolution

by AzureTiger



Series: Extraction [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Hurt Thor (Marvel), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Thundershield - Freeform, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, sick thor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:34:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 140,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25620667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzureTiger/pseuds/AzureTiger
Summary: Steve is a brilliant computer-science student who accidentally stumbles across something much bigger and darker than it first appeared. Lucky for him, Thor is sent out to rescue him when he's kidnapped and taken overseas. On the run across England from a mounting threat, whose life is in whose hands may not remain constant.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, Loki & Thor (Marvel), Steve Rogers/Thor
Series: Extraction [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2061795
Comments: 85
Kudos: 84





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo... I watched Extraction, and oh boy, that's a movie aching for a plot thread thicker than a pasta noodle. Not that I didn't enjoy it, because I very much did, but it's certainly ideal for adaption. I'm interested to know your thoughts on the movie! And of course your thoughts on the story... You always leave me such wonderful comments, and I'm very interested to read what you have to say about this story, too!
> 
> This story may take the premise of Extraction, but don't think that means the plot will be the same B) I'm excited to see y'alls thoughts.
> 
> My links:  
> [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/stormyandrescuer) (I draw lotta thundershield) | [Twitch](https://www.twitch.tv/sketchy_faye) (I draw on Saturdays, maybe more days to be added)

Sand and weapons don’t mix, but Thor likes to clean his weapons on the beach while the sun goes down. He likes the lull of lapping waves, soothing but quiet enough that he can still keep an ear on his environment. Here is as good as home, but it’s his learned instinct not to take anything for granted, safety included. 

“You didn’t strike me as the kind of man to own a lawn chair.” Fury is one of the few people who might be able to sneak up on Thor, but the director made his presence known by the hard crunch of his boots in the sand with some level of deliberateness. He stops by Thor’s hip, trade-mark black coat rippling around his ankles in the gentle ocean breeze. “No umbrella?” 

Thor snorts and turns the gun in his lap, meticulous with each groove as he cares for the weapon. “Haven't seen you in a while.” 

“If I had it my way, I’d have left you alone a lot longer,” Fury replies with a seriousness that quickly overtakes any lingering jovial tones. “But we need you to come in. You can always say no.” 

“When have I ever done that?” Thor flashes Fury a smile. 

“This is why I worry about you,” Fury looks away from Thor’s eyes and out to sea. “As much as I’d love to let you have your well-earned break, we do need you on this. No-one else can get this done.” 

Thor nods toward the house, tucking the cloth in his jeans and slinging his rifle over his shoulder. Once inside, he pours Fury a drink – he's not a bad host – and leans against the wooden table with a drink of his own. “Tell me.” 

The director’s eyes catch the bottle of pills on the table before Thor can think to nudge them behind him. To Thor’s relief, Fury moves on, reaching into his jacket for some folded papers. Thor pulls off the paperclip and unfolds them, abandoning his drink so he can rifle through them. The one on top is of a young man, taken from a surveillance camera and enlarged. “Steven Rogers. Twenty-two, currently studying for his Masters of computer science,” Fury explains. “Or he was, until two days ago.” 

Thor flicks his eyes up at the director, then back down to the photo of the young blonde dressed in a crisp collared shirt, a pair of glasses brushing against smiling cheeks. Thor has a lot of questions, but Fury will get to them. He continues to the page underneath and stares at it. 

“HYDRA,” Fury elaborates. “Plucked him from the streets around his US suburban home. We barely managed to trace their path to the airport, where they took a private jet to the UK. We just about lost them, but according to eye-witness accounts and some wisps of evidence we managed to discern their destination. We’re as confident as we can be that they took Mr. Rogers to a small farming village in the north of England.” 

“So the US needs British special services to intervene,” Thor traces the grainy photo of a blurry figure getting into a van, dressed in TAC gear, a red emblem just barely visible on the breast. A re-creation of the logo has been pasted into the corner of the image for reference – it's a skull with tentacles coming out of it. “What do they want?” Sometimes people like these are best left to their own affairs, and though Steven Rogers looks about as naïve as they come, looks deceive. Either this is all some horrific misunderstanding, or Steven Rogers has done something to get into HYDRA’s bad books. Whatever it is, he doubts agreements can be made through civil discussion. If they could, Fury wouldn’t be here. 

“This kid is something of a prodigy,” Fury explains, still politely swirling his drink without having a sip. “He was admitted to MIT with a full ride. He’s good with a computer, let’s just say that. Him and his friend both. We barely managed to get his project partner out before HYDRA could take him too.” 

“Sounds messy,” Thor huffs, setting down the papers so he can take up his drink again. He can read later, but Fury won’t let this drink come along unless it’s inside him. “When do I start?” 

“We can leave whenever you’re ready,” Fury puts down his untouched glass. “Get ready, and meet me outside at the car.” 

“Yes sir.” Thor smiles and puts back the rest of his drink. 

\-- 

Missions no longer feel like discrete events, but more like waves in this line he might call his life. Everything flows from one thing to the next, one country to another. There are highs and lows, bangs and flashes and periods of silence between those, but the days don’t feel so separate anymore. Thor knows that his performance suffers if he doesn’t get the sleep he needs, yet he can’t find it in himself to ask for rest, to ask for a break. He’s one of Fury’s best agents, after all, and there are people out there who need him. 

It’s not about that, not really. If it were, maybe he’d feel something like pride when he accomplishes another mission, but he can’t. He won’t let himself. This is his job, not a selfless gift he’s offering to humanity. 

Frankly, Fury is a welcome face, the closest thing he has to a friend alongside Barton and Romanoff, but those two are usually out on tag-team missions, so he rarely works with them, and rarely sees them at all. It may be peaceful out there on his little square of Australian beach, but it’s lonely. Then again, Thor’s not sure how well he would do living with someone else. Some stay at the SHIELD headquarters in London, or at least nearby, but Thor can’t. He needs the beach, the solitude, a place to clear his head of gunshot bangs, shouting, and the general audible and visual carnage that comes with most of his jobs. Stealth is one of the weapons in his toolbelt but things go wrong sometimes, and he does best behind his fists or a weapon, in the thick of the conflict. Diplomacy is supposed to be one of his inherited gifts, but he’d never been much good at that, nor at avoiding physical altercations. 

He’s still alive, isn’t he? Though he certainly has the scars to prove he’s had some close calls. 

“How did you heal?” Fury looks away from the control of the jet long enough to search Thor’s face. “Last I saw you I was dropping you off staggering at the airport.” 

“A beach is a better place than a hospital to rest,” Thor smiles and leans back in his chair. 

“Which you got lots of.” 

Thor huffs through his smile. “Cold salt water is good medicine.” 

“Water doesn’t do shit for perforated arteries.” Fury raises his eyebrows, putting the jet in auto-pilot and surrendering his attention from the controls to his agent. 

Thor meets his superior’s keen eye. “I got plenty of rest, Nick. More than I’d like. I’m glad to be back where I belong.” 

“We’re glad to have you,” Fury replies, but his eye says more than his lips, and the director is famous for being impartial. Not emotionless, not heartless, but very well composed. In control. 

He’s a good man to have in your ear. Thor can’t think of anyone he’d prefer. 

“How are you?” 

Thor snorts. “That bad?” Fury doesn’t usually ask questions like that, at least not so directly. 

“I would say you look good just to be polite, but you really don’t.” 

Thor shrugs and stares out the window. “Bored.” 

“Lonely,” Fury adds. “You know, you don’t have to hide yourself away on your days off. Everyone needs a healthy social life.” 

“I have friends,” Thor smiles. “I have you.” 

“You see me four or five times a year, maybe six if you end up in the hospital.” 

Thor shrugs again. “I have what I need.” 

“Okay.” The surrender is heavily loaded with skepticism. 

This lifestyle works for him. It’s not for everyone, and it’s not the greatest life, he’ll admit. But he has his own cottage on the most beautiful piece of Australian shoreline. It’s his own little resort, his own oasis. Nobody bothers him, the weather suits him, and he has all the resources he needs: money, food, and a roof over his head. Not everyone can say that. 

“Still sure you want to do this?” The director asks. “This isn’t a drug lord or a street gang we’re going against. This is the black market of the black market. SHIELD has been tracking HYDRA with as many international resources as we can get our hands on. They’re slippery bastards, and the evil they’re willing to commit has no boundaries.” 

“What’s the pay?” Thor crosses his legs and leans back, lacing his fingers behind his head. 

“Considering we’ll be sending the Pentagon the bill, several mil.” 

Thor likes the sound of that. This isn’t about goodwill, it’s about his job, and jobs pay. Now seems like the right time to smile. All he has to do is shoot a few HYDRA bastards, and get America’s golden boy out. He’s done ops like this before. Fury will come up with a plan, and Thor will plow through enemies as necessary. 

\-- 

The meeting before deployment is one of the most important parts of the mission. Thor picks a good spot to watch the presentation and leans his shoulders against the wall, pulling out his stack of papers to study them while he waits. Of all the people he’s rescued throughout his career, he’s not sure he’s ever had to rescue a preppy schoolboy. A scowl tugs at his features at the very thought of trailing around someone likely to be annoying. Then again, fear can strip away many layers and reduce people to the same shivering wreck he’s encountered plenty of times. A shivering wreck at least is quiet. 

Thor moves the photo to the back of the stack and stares at the HYDRA emblem underneath, memorizing its shape. Not that it could ever be mistaken for anything else... 

Under it are some folded photocopied letters bearing the HYDRA stamp – evidence, scraps of information SHIELD has managed to obtain about where HYDRA is going, and what they want. The first letter was written on a type-writer, and the language is vague but ominous. Most of these phrases are code, clearly, but for what Thor doesn’t know. That doesn’t matter – all that matters is that it’s proof the organization is up to something. Something about buying vanilla twinkies to ship as a novelty gift for European relatives sounds an awful lot like euphemistic kidnapping, especially now that Thor knows Steven Rogers is the most vanilla-looking person he’s ever seen. _I hope he can afford therapy when this is through._ His preppy school should be able to get him some. 

The other letters are from a conversation chain, with more mentions of twinkies. There’s no way anyone would care this much about boxed cake, if any of this were literal. The UK HYDRA agent expresses anticipation for the gift, explaining he’s set aside a special cabinet for them. He gives some delivery instructions which are clearly in code, already deciphered on a separate sheet of paper stapled to the top corner. On the next page is a map of some country roads South of Durham, a farm house circled. The hard work has already been done, the information uncovered, and the plan laid. That’s how Thor sees it anyway, though he knows it’s dangerous to regard his work as ‘easy’, even if it is the ‘easy part’ compared to the months, years even, of work required to gather all these details. Steven Rogers might have been kidnapped a mere couple of days ago, but SHIELD has been tracking HYDRA for much longer, and this mission will be built on that work. 

The lights go out as the flat screen comes on. Thor stuffs the papers in his pocket and crosses his arms, ready to pay attention just like everyone else in the room. Sitwell is studiously taking notes already, while Hill prepares the presentation, and the last few agents filter in. The door closes, and a photograph of Steven Rogers appears on the screen, the same one Thor has in his pocket. 

“Two days ago, at seven-thirty-five am, Steven Rogers was kidnapped from his bus stop by a HYDRA agent posing as a bus driver,” Hill starts her presentation, flicking through what photos have been collected to piece together the story. “The other six passengers were killed, and Mr. Rogers was driven to a nearby alley where he was moved to a black sedan and driven to the President’s golf course. A jet touched down at eight-o-one, and Mr. Rogers was taken aboard. The jet took off before US air forces could arrive, and vanished with advanced stealth technology that rivals our own. The sedan was detonated.” 

There are freeze-frames of surveillance cameras, as well as from videos taken by civilians in the area. Thor tracks the progress, from Mr. Rogers stepping onto the bus, to the bus appearing off-route by traffic cameras, to it disappearing altogether around a corner, replaced by the black sedan that drives out. There are photos collected from various angles of the jet emerging from thin air, stealth panels rippling as the cloak is disengaged. Through trees and shrubbery, Thor can just about see the group of men roughly leading their prisoner toward the lowered ramp. The final photo displays the sky filled with Airforce jets, and a handful of helicopters, smoke and flame billowing from the destroyed sedan, and the jet already gone. It’s too late. 

Hill continues, flicking through another series of photographs. “We managed to pick up traces of their path through anomalies in various radar systems across the globe, but we tracked their trajectory to Glasgow airport, where an unmarked jet reportedly landed. Five men got out, the jet took off, and the men got into a small Renault delivery truck scheduled to deliver groceries to Sunderland. It took an unnecessary detour by Meadowfield. When we deciphered the code in some intercepted HYDRA correspondence, we discovered an address located on the outskirts of that village. This is where we anticipate Mr. Rogers is currently being held.” 

Hill doesn’t bother explaining what Mr. Rogers has done to attract the interest of one of the largest, most dangerous, and most elusive organizations SHIELD has ever contended with, but that’s not part of the plan. Everyone else in the room probably already knows, and if it’s not being brought up here, Thor doesn’t need to know, though he has to admit he’s curious. What if this vanilla twinkie is actually very dangerous? If so, it’s more likely to be a recruitment than an elimination given that a lot of trouble has gone into transporting the prisoner from the US all the way to England farm country. Why not just kill him? _Because he has value._ But value has many forms, and Thor is curious to learn which this vanilla twinkie has. 

“Thor will be dropping into the surrounding fields at one-am tonight,” Fury joins in. “He will eliminate the hostiles and bring Mr. Rogers to the road, where a van will take them both back here.” 

That sounds immensely easy. Simple, direct. The way he likes his missions. Kick down some doors, fire some rounds, make a getaway. This plan was made for him. 

“We estimate there are anywhere from six to twenty hostiles in the building,” Hill adds. “HYDRA has set up equipment to block any signals, so our heat scanners couldn’t get any useful readings. Once you land, you’re on your own until you can dismantle their technology.” 

Thor nods. 

“Any questions?” Fury asks, but nobody has any, so they go their separate ways to collect what they need. 

Someone has already packed a duffel bag for him, but he checks the contents anyway. Satisfied, Thor zips it up and walks down to the underground parking lot where a convoy is waiting to take him and his team to the airport. He stows his bag in the back and gets it the back seat. The drive is short, and soon he’s getting out again and joining the group aboard the jet parked in a secret runway. He dumps his bag on the bench and starts to gear up while everyone else sits down. Fury takes the pilot’s seat, shuts the ramp, and flies them into the sky. 

Thor zips up his plain SHIELD gear, none of which bears the logo for stealth purposes. Someone is more likely to kill him for being SHIELD than spare him for it. Then again, he’ll be shooting at them, so they won’t care who he is when they decide to shoot back. He sheathes his weapons and fills his pockets and pouches with ammo and supplies. Upon second thought, he takes the papers Fury gave him along. The final touch is his earpiece, and he’s ready to go. Among the neatly-dressed men in black suits, Thor sticks out in his dark greys and greens, with his cropped hair and his body armor. Some of these men are dressed for battle too, but they’re only back-up. Nobody looks quite like him. Nobody holds themselves the way he does, nor do they stand so casually to the approach of imminent danger. 

“Drop zone approaching, five minutes out,” Fury announces, and Thor pulls a parachute off the shelf, strapped and ready to go by the time the count-down begins. He pulls on his night-vision goggles and squares off. The ramp hisses open and he runs straight out, falling toward rolling English hills under the starlight. 

Below him is farmland, dotted with cows and crops. Not too far away is the house, and the barn beside it. There are no lights on, and the land is quiet. Thor drops into a small cluster of trees and releases his parachute, creeping through the underbrush and starting his approach. It’s not ideal that everything is so out in the open, but this makes it harder for others to sneak up on him, too. Thor does a quick 360 scan before pushing his goggles onto his forehead and drawing his handgun. 

It takes him a few minutes to traverse the pasture, listening for changes in the environment. When a car drives down the country road a field over, he ducks into the long grass and watches it pass the farm and carry on South. Thor moves on, neatly hopping over the fence onto a grassy lawn. He hurries to the side of the farmhouse and creeps around to the window, crouching under it to listen. Nobody is moving. Either the house is empty, or anyone inside is trying hard to be quiet. Thor never assumes anything is uninhabited; he proceeds around the house with extreme caution. 

There are definitely people in the barn: Thor circles it, finding a spot where the wood paneling is splintered, and listens. Sounds drift through the weak spot, muffled more than he would expect from a barn, which means it’s likely insulated or reinforced. There’s more to this establishment than meets the eye. He looks up and spots a surveillance camera. It would surprise him if there weren’t more, and certainly if one hadn’t spotted him yet. HYDRA will be on their way out soon, and why waste time trying to break down the door when he could have someone open it for him? Thor walks away from his hiding spot and makes sure to wander into the camera’s range as he places himself beside the large double doors. Something inside creaks and whirrs, and he knows the sound of an elevator when he hears one. The neat but heavy clicking sounds indicate reinforced doors unlocking, so he bunches his muscles and raises his weapon. 

What looks like the barn doors are not the doors at all; Thor spins around as the wood paneling in the wall just behind him swings open and a handful of armed agents spill out. They fire off a few shots, and some of them get close, but Thor manages to back up and turn the corner, taking cover and shooting down the men one by one with a few rapid shots. He’s not the marksman that Clint is, but he’s good. Better than the enemy, and that’s all that matters. 

Thor picks his way around the bodies, making absolute certain they’re all dead. They are, but their radios aren’t. Thor gets to his knee and pulls one off the vest of an agent, listening closely to the barking German spilling through. 

_“Report, report! The intruder, did you kill him? Copy!”_

Thor licks his lips and calmly turns on his radio. _“The intruder is dead, copy.”_ His German is a little rusty, but it comes back to him. 

_“Excellent. Return to guard the prisoner.”_

_“Copy, sir,”_ Thor replies. 

_“Hail HYDRA.”_

_“Hail HYDRA,”_ he replies obediently and hangs up, straightening and staring through the open door. Inside is a small lobby with dirt under-foot and innocuous wood walls. Opposite him is an open steel door leading into yet another room, only this one is walled with steel and not so innocuous. Thor walks through, taking a key card from a fallen guard and shutting both doors behind him. He gets into the elevator and descends below-ground. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't be fooled by last chapter's drawing... due to my lack of skill for drawing body types, Steve came out a lot more buff than intended. I hope to do a few more drawings, and I will pay my penance and study some references.
> 
> Seat-belts kids, safety first. Thanks for y'all feedback so far B)

When the bag finally comes off his head, it’s been many, many hours, and a headache has crawled its way up the back of his neck and behind his eyes. Steve winces at the bright lights, crinkling his nose in an attempt to push his glasses back up. It’s futile: one of the men gathered in the room gets to his knee and plucks them off, folding them neatly and laying them gently on the metal tray just visible in Steve’s peripheral – he doesn’t dare look over, staring straight ahead at the cluster of HYDRA men. 

“Look at this skinny prick,” the leader spits with a heavy German accent through a pleased smile. “What a little bitch.” 

The others laugh, and one nudges the man closest to him, speaking in German this time. “ _Look at his little cardigan and his tucked shirt. I bet he takes it up the ass._ ” Another laugh travels through the group. 

Steve knows German very well. It’s one of the first languages he leapt to study even before he officially started his project. He won’t lie and say he’s not scared – the tremor in his hands tightly zip-tied to each arm of the chair shows it clearly – but those jabs ease the tension somewhat. He tries not to think about the tray of tools beside him, and that there’s a group of armed and very dangerous men ready to teach him a lesson. And a bloody one, he presumes. It’s all he’s been able to think about on the journey over (wherever this is – not Massachusetts, he knows that), as well as where his family is. His mom, Bucky, Tony, Bruce, even his supervisor. Are they dead? Is HYDRA bringing them here too? 

The men joke quietly in German, and Steve does his best not to indicate that he can understand every word as the leader fixes him with cruel eyes and zip-ties his ankles to the chair. “Welcome to your new home, _Sch_ _ö_ _n_ ,” he smiles. “Don’t worry. We shan’t keep you waiting long. I suspect you’re tired after many hours of traveling.” 

Steve doesn’t know what to say. Should he try to be quiet and stoic, or answer? He spends too long staring, and loses whatever chance he had to reply. 

The man chuckles and ruffles Steve’s hair as he stands. “Any discomfort you feel now will quickly be replaced with more pressing issues if you do not cooperate, do not worry. However, as a sign of our willingness to cooperate provided you do so for us, I give you this gift.” The man reaches for the table, and Steve flinches, much to the enjoyment of everyone gathered in the room. But it’s not a weapon or a tool that’s presented, instead a water bottle. Steve shivers and droops as the man cracks the plastic seal and unscrews the lid holding the bottle to his cracked lips. 

These are some of the evilest people on the planet. As Steve drinks, the thought lingers aggressively in his mind to spit it back out, but he isn’t sure when he’ll be given more, and he needs to conserve his strength. If he aggravates them, what they do to him could shorten the period he can survive in this place. But if they start questioning him...? Steve wonders if he has what it takes to protect the information inside his head if they start cutting. 

_They’re bullies, plain and simple. Don’t give them satisfaction, don’t invite them to do worse, and don’t scream. Bear it._

There’s nothing to bear today. The water is capped and set back on the tray, and the men file out. “Be good,” the leader flashes a warning smile. “We will not be long.” The door shuts and locks behind him. 

Steve sighs, a whimper slipping out, followed by a sob as he tugs his wrists and strains against the chair. It’s bolted to the floor, and he’s too tightly bound to have any hope of wiggling free, even with his slender wrists and hands. Is anyone coming for him? His school will notice he’s gone. He didn’t see much of the journey from his bus stop to this room, but there were times when he could hear traffic, so he knows someone much have spotted them. 

At least they haven’t taken his hearing-aid. Steve wonders when they’ll notice it. He sniffs and does his best to hold the tears inside, because those men could come back at any minute, and he doesn’t want to meet them with damp cheeks and puffy eyes. He’s got to toughen up and bear this on his own until someone comes to rescue him, and he’s optimistic that they will. The US government will send someone. _That’s if they can find me..._

_They will. I was taken in broad daylight. If not on, then nearby busy streets. Someone will have seen._ Steve blinks away tears and clenches his jaw with determination. He doesn’t want to be tortured... If they ask about his project, how long can he keep his mouth shut before the pain is too much? How much will they do to him? _I can do it. I can handle pain._ Steve shifts in his seat and holds his head high, licking his lips and resisting the urge to worry them with his teeth. He flicks hair from his forehead and takes some deep breaths, in through the nose, and out through the mouth. _Dear God, take me home..._ Steve gives his wrist another tug, but feels the tight plastic start to dig into his skin, so he goes lax. The last thing he needs is to cause himself more harm. Steve winces and shuts his eyes for a moment as his headache flares up, but quickly opens them again as fear creeps up his spine. 

A nap would be wise, while he can, but Steve can’t make his eyes close for longer than a minute before they fly open again, his quaking exacerbated by that feeling of exposure within the black behind his eyelids. When these men come back, he would much rather be awake than startled from his sleep and taken by surprise. 

Despite the cardigan graciously left on his person, the room is chilly. Steve shivers, fighting not to curl in on himself and sit straight instead. It’ll help him breathe more deeply and stay calm, help him not to feel sore as quickly. The temperature doesn’t steal away his thoughts for long before anxiety creeps back in. Steve fights it off determinately, straightening out his fingers and watching them tremble. He clenches his teeth and squeezes his hands into fists, but quickly releases them and starts tapping out rhythms instead. So far he’s lucky they haven’t gagged him, but he’s willing to risk that gift to hum a quiet tune. Mother’s favorite Gaelic ballads come to him easily, and they immediately soothe his rampaging nerves. 

Sarah Rogers has a lovely singing voice, deep for a woman, with smooth but vibrating tones. She can carry a tune beautifully. Steve can hear her as plainly as he can hear his own voice seeping into the frigid silence of this little steel-paneled room. 

It’s at least two hours before anyone comes back, by which time his dehydration headache is still thumping between his ears, and his empty stomach is twisting in knots. His manufactured calm is shattered as boots stomp up to the door, and a heavy lock slides open. Steve tenses his muscles to hide his shaking, holding his upright posture. 

It’s the same man and a couple of his friends again, still dressed in the uniforms they wore when they yanked him from the bus and tossed him in the back of a car. Steve knows the symbol stitched in red on their vests all too well. 

“Good morning, _Sch_ _ö_ _n_ ,” the leader says. “I trust you rested.” He reaches past Steve’s shoulder to the tray of supplies. 

Steve doesn’t answer. 

“We had a little rest ourselves,” the man nudges a few items around with his fingers before selecting a tool with precision. He holds up a thick pair of pliers. “Our superiors are eager to meet you. They would be much happier if your other companions were here to join us. You would prefer that, yes? Some company?” 

Steve can’t help a small shake of his head – no, he doesn’t want anyone else anywhere near these people, even if it means he gets someone to share this cell with. Even if it means they have to hurt him more. Steve would rather endure what they’ll do to him than watch them do the same to someone he loves, and that’s a fact. He squares his jaw and shakes more firmly, fighting to maintain eye contact and not allow his eyes to drift to the tool. 

The man chuckles with mock endearment, giving his tool a couple of pensive clicks. The men behind him shift with anticipation, leering at their prisoner. “I believe all men are capable of having a change of heart,” he says, sliding a step closer and pushing the pliers under Steve’s left index finger. Steve shivers and tries to move his finger away, but the man opens the pliers and catches it, applying just enough force to trap it there. “It would be a shame for someone like you to suffer the loss of your fingers.” 

The men in the background make sneering comments to each other about Steve’s slender hands, while Steve stares at his finger caught in the grip of the pliers, knowing exactly what this man is referring to, what skill is being threatened here. But a programmer doesn’t lose his skill with the ability to type. Steve summons all his courage to look the man in the eyes. 

“I see,” the man gives the pliers a small press, but draws them away. “You have called my bluff, _Vanilleschote_. What a shame it would be for a man like yourself to be stripped of the ability to practice his craft.” He gets to his knee now, resting the pliers on the floor with a click and pulling loose the laces of Steve’s scuffed blue converse shoes. With his ankle firmly tied to the chair leg, Steve’s foot is trapped. 

The right shoe is carefully slid off, then the left, then each sock, which are rolled up and places inside the shoes. The man rises only to set the shoes on the tray before promptly kneeling again and resting his plier on top of Steve’s big toe. He taps down each toe pensively, and Steve stays rigid, unable to keep from biting his lower lip – when the pain comes, he wants to hold the sounds inside for as long as he can. 

“I can clip your wings, little birdie,” the man gently slips the pliers around Steve’s little toe and applies warning pressure, enough to hurt. “If you would ever like to walk again, perhaps you have some things you’d like to tell us?” 

Steve’s not sure if he’s supposed to nod, or say something, and any words he might be able to squeeze out are trapped behind his frozen tongue. Between trying not to shake too hard, and restraining himself from snapping back something that will _really_ get him in trouble, he doesn’t have much brain power left to think of an alternative reply. 

“ _The little prick is frightened,”_ one guard says to the other in the background. 

His friend chuckles. _"Scared like a pussy. He definitely takes it up the ass.”_

The leader ignores them, maintaining unwavering eye contact as he teases his grip on the pliers, pulling the toe in his captivity from side to side with a hint of tenderness that’s terrifying enough on its own. “I would very much like to know where you friends are. We can find them on our own, so no need to play the hero, but you can save them some pain. How large is your family, _Sch_ _ö_ _n_? The damage we can do to you is minimal, but there are no such boundaries on them. Tell me where they are and I can minimize their suffering.” 

“Go to hell,” Steve rasps. He’ll keep his family out of their hands as long as possible. _Unless they’re lying, it doesn’t sound like they’ve caught anyone else yet._

All three men laugh, the leader chuckling. “Such a bright boy, with a prestigious university degree, and this is the best you can do? Can the great America do no better?” 

“Fuck you,” Steve finds the courage to speak with some added force. 

The leader straightens and grabs him by the jaw, pressing his fingers into the joints and raising the pliers as the other two continue to laugh and make comments. “I would be tempted to take your tongue, boy, but you amuse me. For now. You will answer my questions, or you may have to write them when I’m finished with those pretty toes. One more time, for your thick American skull: where are your friends? I will start with the smallest toes, and move inward.” 

“I don’t know,” Steve fights to pull his head from the man’s grip so he can speak. “I don’t...” He really doesn’t. Surely HYDRA would check the university first for his project partner and his other friends. They must know what his family does for work if they know this much about him, so they would check the hospital for his mother. As for Bucky, well, his friend could be anywhere in the city, but he does drive a large and recognizable vehicle with flashing lights on top. So either HYDRA doesn’t know any of that information (which he doubts), or they already have his friends and are playing him, making him think he has something to lose if he doesn’t cooperate. 

“You will still be able to walk without those little toes,” the man gets to his knee again, drawing the tip of the pliers down Steve’s foot to the nail. “How many can you lose before it becomes too excruciating? Two on each foot? Three, four, all five? Perhaps you can, but there are many more bones in the foot, _Sch_ _ö_ _n_ , there is no need to be brave.” 

Steve can feel his chest start to tighten and his heart rate increase in preparation for more pain than he’s ever felt. Tears of desperation start to well up but he holds them back. Surely be now the police will have taken everyone he’s associated with and hidden them away. Can he take that risk? What would it take to stop HYDRA from finding the people he loves, the people who know anything at all about his project? Steve can live without his toes. What else can he live without? And how many people will die if he gives HYDRA any shred of information? 

“You think you are the last line of defense,” the leader smiles, taking the toe again. “We will get what we want. The question is, how much pain do you wish to put yourself through? You are responsible for everything you endure from now on.” 

Steve squeezes his eyes shut, doing everything he can to steel himself against what’s to come as the other guards laugh and mock him, but the pain never comes. Instead, the leader sets down his tool and touches his finger to his ear, slowly rising, Steve watching through tentatively-cracked eyelids. 

“You are very lucky, _Sch_ _ö_ _n_ ,” the leader says, tightening the ties on Steve’s wrists with a couple of rough tugs. “Something has come to my attention. You have a few minutes to think things over.” The man pulls a strip of cloth from the tray and ties it in Steve’s mouth with a tight double knot. “Be good,” he smiles, and draws the bag back over his prisoner’s head. The door opens and shuts, closing out the chuckles of the men. 

Steve shivers in the black, feeling vulnerable despite the room being empty as far as he can tell; all three voices exited. He grabs at the floor with his toes, just in case this is the last time he gets to use them. There’s no way he can ever be ready for what these men will do to him, but he has to stay strong for as long as possible, in case help really is on the way. It’s a bit harder to breathe with the gag and the bag over his head, but he does his best, fighting to calm his nerves to he can ride this out. When that man comes back, he needs to be certain of himself, and what he’s going to do. 

_Bullies are bullies, and you should always stand up to them,_ his mother has said to him before, but that was the playground. She would also tell him not to tempt fate. Ideally, he would be able to think of some way to escape and avoid having to play HYDRA’s game, but when he tugs his wrists there’s even less hope of breaking free. He tugs his ankles again too, but with no luck. Maybe he could rub the plastic ties through against the wood... How long would that take? They aren’t that thick... But the chair is secured down, so he can’t tip it over and attempt to break it. There must be some way... Steve wishes his degree were good for something here, but then again, if he’d studied something applicable to this situation, he likely wouldn’t be here in the first place. 

Desperate and afraid, Steve ceases his efforts and falls still, trying to ignore the growing pain in his fingers from the increased tightness of his bonds. If only he could get a leg free, and he could kick anyone away who got close. If only one man comes back, he might be able to crack him in the head... but then what? 

His thoughts are cut short at the sound of the lock clicking over, and the door pushing slowly open. Steve tries to sit tall again and hide his shaking, instinctively curling in his toes as a pair of boots approaches him – just one set, one man. Steve holds perfectly still, listening. Something rattles, and scrapes across the ground – someone kicking the pliers out of the way, he guesses. At the sound of a blade drawing from a sheathe, he pushes his shoulders into the chair and waits for what’s to come, for the cruel face of the HYDRA guard to be glaring back at him as the bag is drawn off his head, but someone different is staring over him. 

Is he HYDRA...? He’s not dressed like them, but he looks just as deadly, just as hardened. Steve can’t help but flick his eyes to the blade held in a gloved hand, then back at the flecks of blood on the man’s bearded face. Outside the door is the sound of distant running and shouting. 

The newcomer holds a finger to his lips and lowers the blade, slicing through the zip ties. “I’m getting you out,” he whispers gruffly, dropping to his knee to slice through the other pair of ties while Steve pulls the gag off and drops it shakily, quickly rubbing his wrists and flexing his fingers as the blood rushes back. The man sheathes his blade and grabs Steve’s shoes and glasses off the tray, dropping them in his lap and inspecting him from top to bottom. “Are you hurt?” 

Steve shakes his head and hastily pushes his glasses up his nose, almost dropping them. His arms are bruised from all the grabbing and pulling, probably other parts of him too where he’s landed less than comfortably from a rough shove, but other than that he’s fine. Dehydrated and starving and _exhausted,_ but whole. 

“Put your shoes on, fast as you can.” The man orders, drawing his gun and crouching by the door, peering round the frame with his weapon raised. Steve does as he’s told, slipping on his socks and shoes, and making sure both laces are double-knotted before getting up. The blood rushes to his head and he sees stars for a moment or two as his heartbeat pounds between his ears. Taking it upon himself, Steve grabs the water bottle off the tray and drinks a few gulps of what remains. The other man glances over his shoulder to watch, but allows Steve to drink, straightening when he’s done. “Stay close, stay quiet, do everything I say.” 

Steve nods, not a shred of him inclined to do differently. He rakes back his hair and makes sure his hearing-aid is still in place, ducking through the door behind his rescuer. 

It’s too early to be relieved, and his heart rate certainly hasn’t gone down as he jogs along behind the other man, whoever he is. CIA? FBI? Just a cop? His accent isn’t American, but that doesn’t mean his citizenship isn’t. Or maybe he’s an agent from a different country, or a third party. His uniform is unmarked as far as Steve can tell, but his only two choices are to stay here with HYDRA who will undoubtedly torture him, or go with this man who may or may not be on his side. 

Out in the hallway is carnage, the floor just around the corner from his cell littered with bodies. Steve looks away from the worst of it, but not fast enough to spot one of the HYDRA agents that visited him in his cell, dead. 

“Keep up,” the man growls, turned at the hip and sweeping his gun before aiming at the next corner. 

Steve scurries after him, his headache a secondary concern to the footsteps still echoing through this building. They must be underground, he thinks in passing, because they’re going up, and the feet are coming down. The man stalls by the next turn and grabs Steve by the front of his shirt, slamming him against the wall while he fires off a round of shots. Steve grips his ringing head with one hand and braces himself against the wall with the other, blinking every time the gun goes off. Finally they stop, and the closest wave of footsteps has vanished. 

The man glances over his shoulder, then keeps walking, ever cautious as he drops the empty clip out of his gun, pushes a new one in, and holsters the weapon before scooping up an automatic rifle from one of the bodies on the floor. Steve picks his way around them, trying not to look while simultaneously avoiding the puddles of blood that are thick enough to slip in. Whoever this man is, he knows what he’s doing, guarding their path without forgetting to check behind them once in a while too, double-checking that each body he passes is one-hundred-percent dead. 

They reach the elevator, and the man smacks the button, keeping close to the wall with his gun raised. Steve ducks behind, and they both listen to the sound of cables creaking and a distant ding as the box approaches floor by floor. The doors slide open with a ding, and the other man pauses before creeping soundlessly and swinging his rifle into the car. Two men dart out with weapons raised, and Steve yelps as a bullet leaves a seared scuff a foot away from his shoe. His protector isn’t fazed at all, knocking the barrel of one gun away with his own longer one and kicking the second man in the chest so hard his head cracks on the frame of the elevator door. Then he kicks the first enemy’s leg from under him with a vicious crack, and fires a single bullet into his chest. 

“Come on,” a stern voice commands, and when Steve cracks his eyes open, he’s met with an equally-stern expression, and eyes that sweep his body. 

Steve does his own quick check as he follows into the elevator, his protector nudging a flopped arm out of the way with his boot and smacking the top-floor button. Steve leans on the railing to catch his breath for a minute, pushing his hand under his glasses to rub his eyes. 

His moment of reprieve is brief – the elevator doors slide open, pointing through an open steel door to a closed wooden one. His rescuer creeps out, holding his rifle in one hand and slowly drawing a grenade from one of the many pouches on his tactical vest. He walks through the steel door, past a couple of bodies, and across the dusty floor by the wooden door keeping them from the open world. A cool night breeze drifts under it. The man gets to his knee by the wood-paneled wall and listens, Steve stopping by his shoulder and crouching, holding as still as he can, too. 

Something is definitely moving out there, Steve can feel it. His rescuer is already indicating the door with his head. “Open it,” he mouths. “Carefully.” 

Steve steps to the other side of the door with a couple of long, light-footed strides. He pulls back the thick latch securing the door as delicately as he can, then gets to his knee and pushes it with his heel. It swings all the way open, and immediately gunshots spray into the room. None of them make it through the wall though, which must be reinforced between the wood. Wincing and instinctively reaching up to protect his head, Steve turns off his hearing aid and watches through flashes of light as his protector stares fearlessly out the door and tosses his grenade. Steve plugs his other ear and flinches as the room lights up with fire from outside, the air already smelling of smoke and filled with cries of those unfortunate to have been caught in the explosion. 

Some of the attacking fire recedes, but a few bullets still spray into the little room, kicking up dirt. His protector takes cover behind the wall before swinging back around at the opportune moment to fire a few more rounds into the enemies Steve’s unable to see from his huddled, defensive position. 

Fewer and fewer bullets make their way into the room, but suddenly a shadow falls over the entrance. Steve cowers, defenseless against any bullets that are about to come his way – the best he can do is protect his head with his arms and hope that might at least keep him alive. His protector is already standing up, his magazine emptied. The larger man grabs the barrel of the enemy gun the second Steve spots it poke past the doorframe from his angle. His protector yanks backward with gritted teeth, muscles Steve’s never seen on a person pushing against the snug sleeves of his t-shirt. He swings the rifle around and cracks the enemy in the head, then brings it back around and cracks him again. With a neat twist, he frees the gun from the stunned enemy’s hand and flips it around, firing one shot through the enemy’s skull. The body falls, and the night is still. 

Steve unfolds a little, fumbling his hear-aid back to the right volume with trembling fingers and nudging up his glasses as the other man gets to his knee by the body and glances between the boots and Steve’s own feet. He nods to himself and yanks them off, then starts to pull off some of the dead man’s gear. “Did you get hit?” he asks gruffly, tugging the vest off the limp body and glancing back at his protégé. 

“N-no,” Steve shakes his head, struggling to his feet, washed in a wave of dizziness as he does so. 

A hand lands on his shoulder. “Put this on,” the man orders, shoving a vest into his chest and dropping a pair of boots at his feet. “Carry these. You can change into them later. Stay close.” 

A bullet-proof vest doesn’t exactly match with a cardigan, is what his weary brain thinks as he pulls it on and tightens the straps. He laughs dryly in his head and picks up the boots, jogging to catch up and staying by his rescuer’s shoulder. 

The man is taller even than him, and Steve is six feet tall. He’s the biggest person Steve’s ever laid eyes on, and more intimidating than those HYDRA agents, despite the difference of intentions. Is it unwise to write off toe-removal at this stage...? Steve swallows, keeping his eyes away from the bodies as the other man bends down to replace his weapon with a loaded one, snagging the spare cartridges and stuffing them into his pockets. 

“Don’t look,” the other man orders, no less brisk than before, standing up and picking his way through more bodies. How many people did this guy kill to get in here, and out again? “Six-to-twenty my ass,” Steve swears he hears his rescuer grumble under his breath, casting another look back at Steve. “Twinkie my ass.” 

“Huh?” Steve steps over a sprawled body, lifting his hand to block out the sight of the couple of men who were closest to the grenade when it detonated. 

“Nothing,” the other man grunts. “A van will be here soon to take us to the SHIELD headquarters. You’ll be safe there.” 

“SHIELD...?” Steve’s never heard that name before. “Is that who you’re with?” 

“I’m certainly not with them,” the other man nudges a body with his boot as he passes the last one between them and a quaint-looking farm house not too far from where they came (which turns out to be a normal-looking barn when Steve glances back, save for the carnage surrounding it). 

“HYDRA is smart,” Steve counters. “They know how to get into people’s heads.” 

“Not if they’re dead they don’t.” 

This is true. Steve shuts his mouth and holds onto the combat boots of a dead man, boots a man died in. But he has to admit, they’ll be better to run in than his converse, which are already covered in mud and grass stains, and a few flecks of blood. 

The other man walks up the porch to the front door and opens it – it's unlocked, and he walks cautiously inside. All the lights are on. Steve clutches the boots and looks around, hasty to get inside and into some cover. The other man ushers him in and shuts the door, looking out the window before drawing the blinds and continuing his scan of the regular-looking farmhouse. 

It’s empty, the only signs of life the recently-abandoned glasses of liquor on the wooden dining table, and a smoldering pile of ash in a steel bowl. The other man walks over and peers into it, dumping one of the drinks into the mess with a hiss before rummaging through with his fingers. He finds nothing of interest, huffing with displeasure and returning to checking every shadow with watchful eyes. Steve looks around too, his mouth watering at the very sight of something to drink, though he knows the last thing he needs is alcohol. It might help calm his nerves, but it would exacerbate his headache. 

“Come,” the other man gestures with his hand, walking around the kitchen and fireplace to a staircase that leads down. All the lights down there are on too, and both men pad as softly as they can down the wooden steps. Steve’s shoes aren’t as heavy as the agent’s boots, but the other man still manages to walk more quietly. 

They walk through a set of open steel doors, clearly meant to hide a secret room which is fully open to them and laid out with more evidence that people were just here. Those men must have rushed out to stop his escape, Steve reasons, staring at another pile of burnt paper left on a large table. 

There are some chunks visible though, which the agent draws free with his fingers and inspects carefully before putting in his pocket. Steve brushes through the ashes and pulls out a piece of his own, curious to see for himself what HYDRA tried to get rid of. After years of work, he’s actually standing in a lair belonging to what has driven his professional life’s work. Steve even held lots of intercepted HYDRA letters, but they were always electronic transmissions printed onto white A4 paper. This feels... real. As if the ghosts he’s been chasing behind a keyboard have suddenly materialized. Well, they materialized the second they picked him up from the bus stop. 

Where are they? Steve is about to ask, but he doesn’t get the chance, because the other man is hauling a section of wall back with enormous strength, revealing a stack of processors and a PC plugged into a couple of monitors and keyboard. Steve leaves his boots on the table and walks over, staring curiously at the set-up. The processors are ancient, but guarded behind layers of glass. HYDRA often uses old technology, and Steve has spent years studying obsolete units such as these. Stepping up for a better view, he examines the set-up, noting that the processors are not connects to the PC, which must be operating a different system. 

A large hand wraps around the strap of his vest and shoves him back. “Cover your ears,” the other man says, drawing his gun and pointing it at the glass. Steve plugs them and turns away, flinching as just two bullets strike the glass. He’s about to turn back, but the other man is grabbing his vest again to drag him back, shoving him to the ground and pushing both of them under the table. “ _Down!_ ” he yells, but it’s hardly necessary now that his large body is crushing Steve to the floor. Not a second later, the glass shatters outward. 

Steve coughs and winces, his ears ringing and smoke tickling his throat. The other man is quick to slide off of him and push away the table, brushing himself off and offering his hand. He gives Steve another once-over. “My mistake,” he murmurs, slightly less gruff than before. “Tampering trigger.” 

Steve shakes his head and takes the hand, easily pulled to his feet by the stronger, larger man. They both turn and stare at the smoking, melting processors and the glass shattered all around them. The PC unit is still unharmed, though, contained within its own chamber that they can see is separated from the processors now that the front pane of glass is gone. Steve picks his way across the glass to inspect the unit. 

“Careful,” his rescuer warns roughly, stomping closer. 

Steve is already inspecting the casing around the computer. The computer and monitors themselves are contained within the glass compartment, with no obvious way of freeing them, but the keyboard looks accessible; Steve finds a latch on the glass and swings open a panel that allows him to draw the keyboard toward him on a flexible arm. If HYDRA’s anti-tampering system destroyed those processors, but left this computer untouched, it must be running something important. Without asking for permission, Steve finds the power button on the keyboard. The monitors light up with a loading screen, and Steve smiles, looking over his shoulder at the other man. 

His rescuer is scowling. “This must be the communication disruptor,” he mutters. “Can you disable it?” 

Steve shrugs, looking back at the screen. Probably, but he doesn’t want to sound too confident. When the system boots up, he’s faced with a login screen. If he were in the lab, he would plug in a USB and set one of Tony’s magic algorithms on the password bar, but he doesn’t have access to that, so he’ll have to try either guess-work, or some back-end stuff. If the system were more accessible, Steve could just take apart the computer and cut the right wires, but there’s no way they can get inside, and they don’t have the tools the break open the high-security case. This isn’t a PC you’d buy from the electronics store, and it certainly can’t be dismantled with a screwdriver alone. It’s more of a safe than a computer, from the looks of things. Steve brings up the command prompt and starts typing. After all his years of study and practice, this shouldn’t be too hard. 

It’s harder without Tony. Both of them are smart enough to have earned their place in their MA program, but all their work has been together, as a team. Steve has always had a better eye for the big picture though, so when his first few attempts to breach the password barrier fail, he’s already accumulating a list of alternatives. HYDRA usually puts back-ends into their programs, little puzzles or clues to get in. Patterns. Something only a HYDRA agent would be able to find just in case there’s an error with the system. A HYDRA agent or a hardcore enthusiast, Steve snorts to himself, searching the deepest alcoves of files for key words and phrases. 

In the end, he finds what he needs, and the security wall is breached. He smiles and gets to work on the easy part; the program running the hardware disrupting signals is easy to find, and easy to switch off. Steve enters his command, and a whirring in the background slows to a stop. Another command, and the whole systems powers down. Steve turns to a mildly-surprised expression on the agent. 

The other man wipes it away and touches his ear. “Fury. This is Thor. I have secured the package, over.” 

_Package?_ Steve frowns with a small huff, but listens. _Thor? Odd name._

Thor listens, a frown of his own creasing his dark eyebrows as his hand slowly sheathes his handgun and reaches for the rifle slung over his shoulder. “Fury. This is Thor, copy. Fury.” There is no reply, just the crackle of static which even Steve can hear. Tension wraps a possessive grip around the atmosphere and crushes the moment of triumph as Thor abandons his earpiece and picks Steve’s fallen boots off the floor. He thrusts them into Steve’s chest and runs for the stairs. “We need to go,” he growls. “Now.” 

Steve follows, hopping up the stairs two at a time on the heels of the agent. 

When they reach the ground floor, Thor runs right for the door, switching off lights on his way. Steve helps, peering out into the night. Once all the lights are out, he can better see the approach of headlights down the country road that will pass the barn, then this house. Thor grits his teeth, ushering Steve to follow him down the hall as he tests doors one at a time. Finally, he finds the one he wants and runs through into a garage where a small beige sedan is parked. It looks old and worn, but it isn’t dusty, and the engine fires to life with more vigor than expected when Thor turns the key – where did he even find it? 

“Open the garage door,” Thor orders, pointing to a control panel on the wall, “and get in.” 

Steve jogs over and pushes the button, hurrying to the passenger side and sliding in. He barely gets his door closed before the car is lurching forward with a powerful engine rev, almost scraping the hood on the way out of the lifting garage door. The little car purrs with power, and Thor pushes his foot into it, already going fast enough to drift on the gravel to aim the nose at the road. A van is approaching. Steve does up his seatbelt and tosses his boots in the back, bracing his arm against the door rest as they drift another 90-degree turn onto the road. 

“Who are they?” Steve looks over his shoulder, but quickly sits straight as Thor changes gear and accelerates down the open road. 

“Our ride,” Thor growls. “Hold my rifle. Carefully. Don’t touch the trigger. I might need you to pass it to me.” He nudges the weapon off his shoulder and passes it over the shift stick. Steve takes it, holding it firmly but avoiding the trigger. The weapon feels strange in his hand, like it doesn’t belong. This piece of metal could mow down a dozen enemies with a squeeze of his finger. 

Thor changes gears again, and the car shifts like the gearbox is fifteen years younger, which is a relief because the van in pursuit has comparable power and is catching up. 

“We won’t outrun a SHIELD vehicle,” Thor states, checking his mirror. “Not in this.” 

“SHIELD?” Alarmed, Steve looks over for answers with wide eyes. “But you said-” 

“I know what I said,” Thor barks, changing gear one last time and pushing the pedal as hard as he can. “SHIELD vehicle, not SHIELD drivers.” 

“Are you sure?” Steve tries, and immediately feels stupid for asking. 

Thor shoots him a look, then stares back into the mirror before returning his eyes to the road ahead. In the distance are lights that proclaim civilization, but the van will catch them before then. Steve looks into his wing mirror and spots a man leaning out, gun aimed forward. He opens his mouth to yell a warning, but Thor swerves violently and the bullets miss. More are soon to follow, and Thor continues to weave as much as he can while their pursuers attempt to gun them down. 

“Are you sure they don’t think we’re HYDRA?” Steve asks, flinching as another round of bullets sprays the car, puncturing the bumper and cracking the reinforced rear window. 

“Shut up!” Thor growls, yanking the car back across the road, which slams Steve into the door with a yelp. A bullet catches Steve’s wing mirror and shatters it. The van is about 200 meters behind, and gaining. Thor is rummaging in his vest while trying to steer. “Open the sun roof,” he orders. 

Steve doesn’t hesitate, rushing to turn the crank and wind open the window while the car continues to weave back and forth. One particularly violent swerve throws his hand off, but he scrambles to grab the crank again and open the sun roof the rest of the way. When he looks up to confirm he’s finished, Thor already has a grenade in his hand, his fingers wrapped tightly around the handle. He takes one final glance out the rear-view mirror before driving straight and pulling out the pin with his teeth, tossing the grenade straight up through the sun roof. A few seconds pass before it falls through the windshield of the incoming van, and explodes. The van quickly loses distance on the car, rolling to a stop, smoke billowing away from the flaming wreck. 

Shell-shocked, Steve reaches up for the sun roof and cranks it shut once more, settling in his seat and trying not to stare back at the ball of fire growing smaller and smaller behind them. Thor doesn’t slow down, keeping his foot pressed on the gas as he races down the country road toward the town in the distance, wearing a grim expression that does not inspire confidence. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Schön_ = pretty  
>  _Vanilleschote_ = vanilla bean


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title may change again if I think of something better, but for now we'll try this :) And thank you of course for your feedback; I continue to look forward to your thoughts!
> 
> Road trip! Time to play the best road trip game, 'who's the biggest idiot'!

_Twinkie my ass._ Steven Rogers isn’t that small. He’s taller than Thor expected, though he is lanky like a teenager, the hint of developing muscle pushing against parts of his clothing, especially in his shoulders. He looks worn in ways other than physical, haunted and frightened as soon as the exhilaration and distraction of their brief car chase ends. Thor doesn’t slow the car, but he does open his hand for his rifle, and Steve happily gives it back. Thor quickly turns the safety on and places the weapon the back seat. 

Steve is quiet, arms wrapped around his body and his shoulder pressed into the door, eyes lost. 

They’ve been driving at high speed for twenty minutes since the van was destroyed, but Thor’s not risking anything. He tests his earpiece again, but the only response he gets is static. “Fuck,” he growls under his breath. _You better not be dead, you one-eyed bastard._

Beside him, Steve nervously stills, worrying the door grip with his thumb while he clutches it tightly. He looks terrified, but fighting his hardest to stay in control. It’s admirable, impressive even, but completely transparent. Understandable, though. Sensible too; anyone with any sense should be frightened. Thor just wishes he knew what to do – he should definitely do _something._

“Where are we going?” Steve finally asks, licking his lips before drawing in the bottom one in. They look dry. It must have been a rough few hours. 

“Into town,” Thor replies in his usual gruff tone; when he’s on the job, it’s tough to separate himself from it until it’s over. Then again, it’s not like he has cheery, normal conversations with anyone once the job is over. 

“What... what are we going to do?” Steve asks, but he shrinks back at the glower on Thor’s face. “S-sorry... You just said we were fucked...” 

“The _job_ is fucked,” Thor corrects, slowing down at the approach of an intersection and checking both ways. Normally he would steam right through, but he spots a traffic camera, and the last thing he needs is for more evidence of his trajectory to be recorded. 

“Could you at least... reassure me or something? You know, tell me everything’s going to be alright?” 

“You’re a big boy,” Thor pulls away from the stop line more aggressively than intended, speaking without thinking before realizing how dismissive that is. He shakes his head, scrambling to correct himself. “But just because the job is fucked doesn’t mean everything won’t be alright. One way or another, I’ll get you to SHIELD.” Is that really the best he can do...? 

Steve wraps his arms back around himself and continues to stare out the window, biting his lower lip more forcefully. 

Thor shakes his head and grits his teeth. This is just a normal guy, with no training, and who’s never been shot at. He’s never been hunted, and probably never seen a dead body, least of all dozens torn apart by bullets. “Look,” Thor starts. “Things are a little fucked, but we have a vehicle, weapons, and we’re both in one piece, so I’d say those are pretty good conditions. Better conditions than some jobs I’ve done that have gone according to plan.” These are only early days though, a detail Thor decides to retain for himself. 

The car drives over a dip in the road, and Steve winces as he’s jostled in his seat, clutching his head. 

“Are you certain you’re alright?” Thor asks. 

“I’ve had two-thirds of a bottle of water in the past ten-plus hours,” Steve rasps, pushing the heels of his palms into his forehead. “I was in a dry plane for most of that.” 

Thor slows a little and downshifts, passing a couple of cars coming the opposite way before drifting into the other lane to avoid a pot-hole. He has some cash on him, as he always does on a mission, enough to buy his way through most barriers that can pop up on missions like these, so certainly enough for a few bottles of water and some granola bars from a gas station. The car could use a fill-up too, though Thor intends to dump it the first chance he gets. The body may be inconspicuous (minus the bullet holes), but HYDRA will surely know how to track down their own vehicles. 

“Put your seat back,” Thor orders, this time managing not to snap so harshly. “Have a nap. I’ll wake you.” 

The younger man looks exhausted, taking off his glasses and tucking them in the collar of his shirt, rubbing his eyes with a wince. He folds back the chair and leans against it, shutting his eyes. Amazingly, he falls asleep within a couple of minutes, at least as far as Thor can tell. 

Thor sighs and looks away, focusing on the road and the approaching bridge. So far, their tail is clean, but Thor doesn’t trust that for a second. No matter how sure he is of his abilities, and how confident he is that he killed every last HYDRA agent on that farm, as well as in the van, he knows someone probably radioed another base with information. And if not, it’s suspicious to suddenly not hear from someone. Thor crosses Sunderland Bridge and into some denser traffic, keeping to the speed limit and paying closer attention to the cars that pass him. Even at night there’s traffic on the A167, but as he turns onto the motorway, he feels marginally safer hidden among the other cars. That is of course if none of them are driven by enemies, which is always a possibility. 

The gas station isn’t far. Thor pulls up to the pump and takes off his vest and weapons, leaving them on his seat while he goes into the store to pay in advance for a few liters of petrol and a handful of food and drinks. The petrol will get them to a dump site where they can swap for a clean ride, and the food should get Steve to whenever they can safely get more. Thor hopes that next stop will be SHIELD, but he can’t be sure. Fury might not be in London right now, depending on whether their communications are severed because the connection itself is down, or because Fury is MIA. 

For now, he puts thoughts of the job aside and adopts a more easy-going demeanor as he walks casually into the store, prompt but not hasty, laid-back but not lingering. Thor grabs some bottles of orange juice from the cold cabinet, two bars of chocolate, and a handful of granola bars, which he bundles in his arms and transports to the counter. On his way, he spots a cold case with some sandwiches, and adds a couple of those to his haul. At the counter he spots some over-the-counter meds, and slides an Ibuprofen package with the rest of his things. 

The cashier rings everything through wearily. “That everything?” he asks, dropping one item after another into a plastic bag. 

“And ten liters of petrol,” Thor says, pulling some bills from his pocket and counting them as the total comes up on the register. He hands over his cash, collects the change with a nod, and leaves the store with his bag. When he reaches the car, Steve is still asleep, his mussed hair flopped into one eye and his brow lightly furrowed. Thor gently taps on the glass and opens the driver’s door. “Wake up,” he says, trying to make it sound more like an invitation than an order. 

Steve groans and sits up slowly, pushing into his forehead with a wince. He opens one eye and looks over, then down at the bag, his frown of discomfort growing curious. His eyes widen as he takes the bag and peers inside. “Wow, thanks!” he goes right for the juice, taking off the cap as fast as he can and thirstily drinking. 

“Slowly,” Thor barks, though he doesn’t mean to. “Slowly,” he says again, softer this time. “You’ll make yourself sick. It may not be my car, and I’m sure you would agree those bastards deserve it, but we have a while to drive in it yet.” 

“Right, right,” Steve pulls the bottle from his lips, taking a final small sip before screwing on the lid. He gives Thor a bashful little smile. “Thanks, really.” 

“Eat, take a couple of those pills,” Thor orders, and quickly shuts the door, spinning around to fill up the car. Ten liters plus the fumes in the tank will get them as far as they need. He keeps a close eye on everything moving (and not moving) as he finishes pumping. Something is always eating his nerves, but Thor is good at distinguishing between his usual cautiousness, and a sixth-sense that a threat is imminent. Like, within-the-block imminent. He does up the fuel cap as fast as he can and gets back into the driver’s seat, shrugging on his vest and weapons while he watches the mirrors. Luckily, there’s nobody much around to spot the bullet holes in the back. 

Steve looks much better, more awake and not in so much pain, sipping his juice between bites of sandwich as he gazes out the window. He looks back at Thor’s return and smiles, handing over a bottle and a granola bar. “You should drink too.” 

He probably should. For a moment, Thor is tempted to take the items from the younger man and enjoy a few minutes of rest, but there’s no telling how close HYDRA already is, or who might spot their bullet-riddled car and phone it in. “Open it for me, would you?” he says instead, unable to turn down the face offering more than the gift itself. “We need to keep moving.” He tears his eyes away from Steve’s bright, intelligent eyes. Thor’s never been assigned a job with such bright eyes and soft lips. _Fuck me, and fuck Fury for disappearing. I know you aren’t dead, you slippery bastard._ Without Fury, he’s out of a job, and Thor’s not sure he can work for anyone else, nor does he have the skill to set up the jobs he takes on his own. They take more planning than he’s capable of, and though someone would rise to take Fury’s place, he doesn’t trust anyone nearly as much. 

Steve opens the juice bottle and hands it over, peeling the wrapper off the granola bar while Thor drinks. Thor offers a thank you, but it’s back to gruff – emotions he’s not familiar with or any good at handling usually manifest as anger and frustration. Besides, it’s highly inappropriate and unprofessional to be thinking about how slender Steve’s hips are, and how well his ass fills into them despite his slender build. _You’re just horny. It’s been a while._ Thor wraps his fingers around the shift stick and pulls onto the motorway, shifting up. In this kind of work, it’s not wise to pursue long-term relationships, not when that other person could become a target, or when Thor himself might not come back home. That’s a lot to ask of someone. Strangely though, despite being in his active prime, sex is rarely on his mind. 

Unfortunately, dopey blondes are his weakness. _Now is the worst possible time to get distracted._ And Steve is a schoolboy, a proper gentleman. The last thing he needs (or wants) is to get involved with a dangerous, battle-hardened soldier. _A smart,_ _attractive_ _man his age probably has a girlfriend back home anyway._ When this mission is over, Steve will go back to the US, to his family, and Thor will go back to work. Those are no conditions to maintain a relationship, and Thor isn’t rude enough to assume Steve would be up for a quick fuck, let alone ask for it. 

At the end of the day, it may all be a useless waste of energy entertaining this wreck of a thought-train, because they may not have the time. Instead, he redirects his focus to the road, and the granola bar Steve places in his hand. 

One, they need a new car, and two, they need to get a hold of Fury. If the SHIELD base is compromised, then Thor needs to find another safe place to bring Steve. Thor enters the roundabout and exits down a farm road hoping to spot an easy steal. Daylight is only a couple of hours away. 

Steve has fallen asleep again, not so deeply now that his body isn’t tired enough to knock him out completely. He doesn’t look entirely peaceful, but doing well despite the circumstances. Thor sighs, some tension bleeding away now that he’s more-or-less alone. It’s a very good thing that their escape went well, because the last thing Thor needs is to drag someone else behind him; if Steve wasn’t recovering from his dehydration, or had been injured by the HYDRA agents, getting him across the country would be a lot harder. Thor’s already come to terms with the fact that Steve’s abilities may come in handy, certainly now that he has to find some way of contacting Fury. Everyone at SHIELD goes through basic training on how to use their radios and rig up a temporary system, but Thor never had the patience to learn more than the bare minimum. Who knows if Fury will have access to any kind of transmitter either, or if any secret SHIELD channels are compromised. 

They have to try. 

In the distance, Thor spots some approaching houses with cars parked on the street outside. They’re older vehicles too, which means they’ll be easier to steal. The timing couldn’t be more perfect, because something rattles and the back wheels jump off the road with a muffled boom, smacking back down and grinding along behind as the car fishtails. The sound and movement jolts Steve awake, the younger man snapping upright in his seat, his eyes full of alarm as he looks to Thor for answers. 

Thor grits his teeth, fighting to aim the car off the road and down the ditch. “Explosives in the rear axle,” he explains. “I don’t know what kind of range HYDRA needed to activate that, but they may be close. They’re onto us, at least. Either that or taking precautions.” The car grinds its way across the asphalt and over the embankment, splashing in some swampy weeds on its passenger side. They need to get out swiftly, just in case the fuel tank explodes, even though the explosion was highly-precise as far as Thor can tell. 

Thor undoes his seatbelt and kicks his door right off its hinges, throwing out his weapons and the bag of groceries before climbing out. He offers down his hands to help Steve climb out too, hauling the younger man to safety. Thor reaches up and leaves their supplies on the roadside so he can help Steve climb the embankment, but luckily the other man has long legs and doesn’t need the assistance. He’s changed into his boots, leaving his converse in the back seat. They inspect the split axle and scraped undercarriage from the edge of the ditch, in solemn silence. 

A small convoy of cars are approaching in the distance. Thor bends down for their stuff, shoving the rest of the snacks into Steve’s pockets and his own before ditching the crinkly plastic bag. He slings his rifle over his shoulder and grabs Steve’s arm, hurrying past the town sign and into some thin forest where he breaks into a run. Steve keeps up, sprinting along at a steady pace even through the underbrush. Thor lets go, confident his protégé will keep up, and adjusts his rifle strap more securely across his chest, drawing his handgun instead. They’re lucky the deepest part of this green belt is thick enough to hide them well enough. Thor stops by a tree and pushes Steve against it, keeping close while peering around to watch the road and the area where they left the car. Lights glare through the foliage and slow by the ditch, doors opening and closing. 

“Climb the tree,” Thor orders. “And don’t come down until I tell you. Stay quiet.” 

Steve doesn’t question him, reaching up into the branches and pulling himself up with a grunt of effort. Thor holsters his gun so he can give the other man a boost, cupping under Steve’s boots and shoving him up. Steve manages to haul himself into the branches, climbing until he gets the nod of approval from Thor. The younger man tucks himself against the trunk, looking worried. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Thor reassures, drawing his gun and keeping close to the tree. “I won’t let them have you.” He parts his lips to say something along the lines of ‘everything will be alright’, but he can’t make the words come out. 

It’s too late anyway, because that group of people who got out of their cars is walking into the forest, flashlights in-hand. Thor gets to his knee and looks up, double-checking that Steve is high enough not to get shot in case bullets start to fly. Satisfied, he trains his eyes on the advancing pack, creeping around the truck to keep it between him and them. 

“ _They can’t be far!”_ someone barks in German. _“Spread out and search. Take the boy alive. Kill the other one.”_

Thor grits his teeth, glad at least that those orders are to their advantage, since they need Steve alive and in well-enough shape. HYDRA can’t risk spraying everything with bullets in case they kill their precious package. That’s why the car was maimed instead of completely destroyed, Thor imagines. _Still, I should have ditched it far sooner._

The men start to spread out, and Thor can see their forms in the darkness, counting seven. There are likely more back at the convoy. For now, he needs to keep them closer together so he can kill them more easily without risking being surrounded. Thor quietly draws his rifle off his back and shields himself with the tree, firing off a burst of shots. With a few trees in the way and the men too spread out, he downs only two before return fire comes his way. Thor ducks behind the tree feeling the tree suffer as a few shots strike the wood, one grazing a chuck off the side. 

Thor peeks around the tree when there’s a break in the fire, coaxing another round. Quickly, he ducks back behind his shelter and waits patiently for his window. The men are moving closer and circling him, and the second he sees one appear twenty feet over his left shoulder, he shoots him. A bullet whizzes by his right shoulder, a close call. Thor throws his rifle back over his shoulder and throws himself into a sideways roll before another round of bullets can take his head off, whipping out his handgun as he rights and dropping the shooter. It’s not a kill shot, but he doesn’t have the chance to fire again because he’s surrounded by now. 

Nobody can dodge a bullet, but Thor is damn good at guessing where they’ll be aimed, and moving to make himself a harder target to hit – he whirls to his feet, taking a bullet in his reinforced vest that would have otherwise gone through the back of his skull. The force pushes his foot back, but he’s used to compensating for it and doesn’t falter when the remaining men throw themselves at him. He shoots at one but catches the man behind in the leg instead, his closer friend drawing a knife. Thor grabs the wrist and breaks it, kicking out at the third man and dealing a glancing blow to his hip. The first man drops his knife into his other hand and sweeps at Thor’s stomach. Bullet-proof vests aren’t so good for stopping bladed weapons, so Thor bends out of the way. The man flips the blade in his hand and tries to stab up under Thor’s vest, but Thor blocks wrist-to-wrist and pushes the weapon far enough down that he can stomp on the man’s arm. It’s a good angle, and that bone breaks too. Thor shoots him and swings around to finish off who’s left. 

A fist connects with his face, followed by another slashing blade, but if it’s one thing Thor can take it’s a punch, so the blow doesn’t stop him from protecting himself from the blade. He lifts his knee and glances the man’s wrist off it, swiveling on his heel and kicking him in the stomach so hard the HYDRA agent doubles over with a gasp. Thor goes to shoot him, but his gun clicks empty. 

No matter. Thor drops the empty cartridge into the dirt and pulls a new one out of his vest, but an arm wraps around his neck before he can push it into place. The cartridge falls from his hand, and Thor fumbles the gun as a strong forearm chokes him from behind, dragging him backward. The man he kicked is straightening out, spitting and retrieving his knife. The man he shot in the leg earlier is staggering to right himself, limping toward a gun dropped by one of his companions. 

Weakened by the wound Thor already dealt him, the HYDRA agent choking him falters when Thor stamps on his boot, but doesn’t let go, yanking upward and applying more pressure while his friend approaches with the knife. Thor lifts his feet off the ground, held up by his throat but able to swing his leg upward and knock the blade from the approaching agent’s hand. He strikes out with the other for his head, but misses as the man choking him pulls him backward and throws him to the ground. By now, the man with the damaged leg has reached the gun, and Thor spots him battling to pick it up. Coughing, Thor rolls onto his back. A boot promptly lands in his chest, the second man retrieving his knife, and a bullet seconds away from releasing anywhere the injured man manages to aim it. The distance is very short, so the chances of it blowing his brains out are high. 

Thor growls and wraps his arm around the ankle on his chest, ready to throw the agent into the line of fire, but a long shape drops from the branches above and lands with a grunt and a yelp on top of the agent with the gun. Both men go down in a heap, and the gun lands in the leaves. Steve is there, untangling his long limbs from the man he just crushed, shaking hair from his face and tackling the agent in a tight squeeze as they wrestle. Thor shows his teeth and throws the startled agent off his chest, dodging a knife thrust from the other and leaping for the gun. He rolls to cover distance and picks it up, swinging around and shooting both men dead. Then he walks dizzily toward the knot of flailing limbs and finds the back of Steve’s vest somewhere in there. He pulls his protégé away and shoves him aside, shooting the final man in the head. 

It’s not over. The lights are still lit on the vehicles flicker as more agents move past them, entering the forest and talking to each other, and into radios or on phones. Thor picks up his weapon and shoves the fallen clip into the bottom, holstering it and grabbing Steve roughly by the arm. He pulls the man to his feet and runs, scooping up his fallen glasses as he goes and tucking them in his vest. 

Steve keeps up, panting but maintaining pace as they follow the road. The forest soon ends, and Thor leans them both onto the sidewalk, across the quiet road, between some buildings, and into the next street over. He turns the corner and keeps running, following the road and not daring to stop until they find somewhere to hide. A sign tells him that patch of green ahead is a cricket club. Thor drags Steve across the grass and jumps the fence, looking back to make sure the other man makes it over. Steve jumps and pulls himself up, rolling over and landing a little shakily but following when Thor breaks into a run again. They tear across the manicured lawn toward the cluster of trees, both of them panting, but Steve pushing himself up to keep pace with the larger man. 

When they finally reach shelter, both of them collapse in the shrubbery, backs to a tree, and gulp painful breaths of air. Steve is coughing and wheezing, in good shape but not the same shape Thor’s in, though Thor is drawing in hungry breaths all the same as he nurses his bruised throat. 

It takes some time before he has enough oxygen to command his muscles to move, but when he does, he gets to his feet and grabs Steve by the shoulder strap of his vest, slamming him against the tree roughly. “What the fuck were you thinking?” he growls, remembering to keep his voice down. HYDRA hasn’t followed them here, but that doesn’t mean they won’t. Steve stares with wide-eyes into the bigger man’s face, still red with hypoxia as he recovers from their lengthy sprint. Thor doesn’t stop, happy to go on. “I told you to stay the fuck in that tree. What if you broke something? You didn’t fucking break anything, did you?” 

Steve stammers, but shakes his head, fumbling at the hand holding him upright. 

Thor slams him again. “What if you’d broken something? A leg? Even a sprain is enough. How the fuck are you supposed to run away if you fuck yourself up?” 

“I... I thought...” 

“You weren’t supposed to think,” Thor hisses. “You were supposed to stay up there, and stay safe. What if you’d caught a bullet? This isn’t a game.” 

“He was... was gonna...” Steve swallows. He’s shaking. “He was gonna shoot...” 

“That’s what this is for,” Thor pats his armored chest and picks out the crushed bullet lodged in the material. 

“Doesn’t cover your head...” Steve murmurs. “I thought...” 

“You do what I tell you,” Thor maintains his grip. “Or you could get us both killed. What are we supposed to do if you take a bullet or fuck yourself up playing hero? You slow us down, HYDRA catches us. They torture you, and best-case scenario, you die a quick death, preferably before they extract any information from you, or make you watch them hurt the people you care about.” 

There are tears gathering in Steve’s eyes, but he’s trying to hold them back even though he’s trembling and his voice is cracking. “What am _I_ supposed to do if they shoot _you_?” he replies, timid but brave enough to ask it in the face of wrath. “He was going to kill you...” 

Thor has nothing to say to that. He drops Steve, who falls on his rear in the dirt. Thor huffs, looking around at their shelter to avoid eye-contact. He supposes the other man is correct, but he’s still angry. “Don’t ever fucking do that again,” he grumbles, turning on his heel and sitting heavily too. With a weary sigh, he rubs his throat and gathers a few more deep breaths to recover from his outburst. That was uncalled for. 

“S-sorry...” Steve murmurs, on the verge of tears. The stress he’s under must be immense, and he’s not used to it the way Thor is, though clearly the stress is somewhat getting to Thor, too. _Fucking idiot... Jumping out of a tree into a gunfight..._ The last thing he needs is to have to protect Steve from himself on top of HYDRA.  


“S’fine,” Thor huffs. “Sorry.” Steve did technically save him, even though Thor is confident he could have gotten out of that on his own. “Are you hurt?” He gives the younger man a closer look – he looks scuffed but well enough. There aren’t any dark patches on his clothes, or holes in his vest. Just a couple of scrapes on his face, and a twig in his hair. Thor reaches up to pull it out, remembering the glasses as he does. He retrieves them from his vest and offers them up like the most pathetic apology. 

Steve brightens and takes them, wiping his eyes and pushing them on. He gives a little smile. “S-sorry,” he stutters again. “Wasn’t tryna play hero... Just didn’t want you to get shot.” 

“I don’t want you to get shot either,” Thor notes. “And of the two of us, I’m the expendable one.” 

“Don’t say that,” Steve whispers, eyebrows turning upward. “That’s not true.” 

“HYDRA wants you alive,” Thor replies calmly. “You’re a danger to them. Something you’ve done is a threat to them in ways that people like me are not. Besides, this is my job. I’m getting paid to protect you. A bullet is worth a few million.” 

“Million....” Steve’s eyes widen for a moment. He pulls off his glasses and rubs them clean on the edge of his scuffed cardigan, his hands still shaking quite badly. “You’re not worth less than me. I can be replaced too.” 

“Taking a bullet or two is part of the job,” Thor shrugs, determined to win this one, though he isn’t sure why. 

“Have you?” Steve looks over, his eyes clearer without the glasses in the way. “Taken a bullet?” 

Thor nods. “A few. Part of the job.” Old scars ache at the memory, but they’re points of pride; people tried to take him down, but they failed. Unfortunately they sometimes ache badly enough to get in the way, but he’s got a bottle of strong medication hidden in his vest in that event. So far so good. 

Steve’s eyes widen again as he slides his glasses back on and pushes his bangs from his face. They flop down almost immediately. His awe is tainted with concern, though. “Is your throat okay...? Here,” he rummages in his pockets, pulling a full bottle of orange juice from one of the compartments usually reserved for reserve magazines. Steve offers it up, frowning with disappointment but eager to help. “It’s not very cold anymore...” 

Thor can’t help a smile as he gratefully takes the bottle and touches it to his neck. That does feel better, even if the liquid is no longer cold. It feels good on his skin warm with exertion and swelling though. A few seconds is enough; he unscrews the cap and has a drink, then passing back the bottle. “Rest. We’ll find a car in five minutes and you can sleep then.” 

“What about you?” Steve asks worriedly once he’s done drinking with all the restraint he can manage. 

“I’ll rest later,” Thor promises. “I’m not tired. Besides, we need to contact Fury somehow, and I would bet money you know more about radios than I do.” 

Steve smiles. “Maybe.” 

“Definitely,” Thor takes back the bottle when offered for one last sip before giving it back. He stands up and holds out his hand. “No more recklessly jumping into fights, even though you maybe saved my life.” 

“ _Definitely_ saved your life,” Steve corrects, taking the hand and brushing himself off. The remark is meant to tease, not boast. He lifts his chin. “But okay. Thanks, by the way, for protecting me.” 

“It’s my job,” Thor turns before the slyness creeping into Steve’s smile while he makes his rebuttal arouses him. Luckily, it’s been so long since he’s been aroused that it takes too long to remember the mechanics of it before the moment passes. Firmly, Thor resolves not to think about how furiously Steve flung himself on that HYDRA agent, lest the blood really does remember where to rush to. _Fuck me, and fuck Fury. Especially fuck HYDRA._


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was thinking I might not take my usual slow-burn route like usual, so feel free to give your input on what you think as this progresses! Of course I always value and look forward to feedback of all kinds! Things will ramp up very soon B) promise.

Thor lets Steve rest until the first car pulls into Victoria Jubilee Park where they’ve been camping for what remains of the night. Poor Steve was dozing mere minutes after they were safely inside their new ride, a grey Citroen sedan Thor stole from the curb. Steve wasn’t pleased, but they had no choice, and the car was illegally-parked anyway, and on a yellow line to boot, so Thor figures he’s doing the owner a favor by exchanging a towing fee for an insurance claim.

After his third nap, Steve finally looks recovered from his recent ordeals, groaning and stretching his lanky limbs as best he can inside the car when Thor rouses him. Thor considered letting the other man sleep while he drives toward their destination, but if things go  wrong, he’d rather have Steve awake than roused violently.

Steve yawns and rubs his eyes, putting his glasses back on as Thor drives out of the parking lot and onto the road, turning toward the motorway. It takes him a moment to gather the courage to speak to his companion, using focus on the light but substantial morning traffic to justify not making eye-contact. “I-I’m sorry,” he does his best to say it in a friendly manner, though it still comes out rather rougher than he hoped for. “About last night. What you did was very brave. Though still very stupid,” he adds quickly, not wanting Steve to get any ideas.

Steve pulls a granola bar out of his vest and unwraps it, and Thor can see him turn his head in his peripheral. The agent can’t help but glance over, and is rewarded with a warm but still bashful smile. “Sorry,” Steve replies quietly, peeling away the wrapper with such delicate fingers. The student’s hands are soft and unscarred, but the knuckles are bruised and raw from punching. He must have punched  _ hard _ to damage the skin like that. “Guess it was pretty stupid... Wasn’t really  thinkin ’.” He shrugs and offers up the granola bar, already reaching for another tucked in his vest.

Thor takes it with a grateful nod, making note to stock up at another gas station when he has the chance. It’s not good to fight on a full stomach, but something small to keep him going is appreciated. But when Steve offers him some juice, he hesitates. “How is your headache?”

“A lot better,” Steve replies, admirably chipper for what happened yesterday, though his hands are still trembling a little. “Drink it. You’ll get one too if you don’t. Then I might have to step in again.” That last bit comes out with the beginnings of a confidence Thor very much likes, which takes him a moment to realize because of the anger that bubbles up first. A scowl twists his features, but it unwinds quickly enough, and he takes the drink. If this is a coping mechanism, or part of Steve’s personality, Thor likes it. He drinks to wash away the tingle in his chest that’s quickly spreading south. Steve however is shrinking a little, his voice falling quieter again. “Didn't mean that,” he says.

“ S’fine . Thanks,” Thor mutters around the rim. Steve is right though: if he doesn’t stay hydrated himself, he’ll suffer. The guy’s just trying to be friendly and kind, and it’s amazing he can manage that under these circumstances. Anxiety shows clearly in Steve’s face and posture when Thor gives back the bottle, gifting himself another glance at his passenger before pulling onto the roundabout. Now would be a great time for some kind of reassurance, but he can’t think of anything convincing. Besides, don’t reassurances like that only bring up the reasons why things might  _ not _ be alright? Steve has already been attacked several times in less than a day, and the last thing he needs to calm his nerves is to think about their situation. Just because Thor needs to focus on the mission doesn’t mean Steve does as well. Thor’s dragged along a variety of rescued companions on his missions, but none he feels as willing to converse with as Steve. It’s more a matter of what to converse about though, and how.  _ So, every mechanic of conversation, really... Willingness on its own will not get me far. _

This is pathetic, that he can’t think of a single thing to say, even as he turns off the roundabout and follows the road down to the next one. He’s turning onto the next roundabout before he can think of anything to say, noting how raptly Steve is staring out the window at the world passing by. “Have you, um, travelled much?”  _ If you call this travelling... _

Steve turns. “No, not really... I’ve been on a few school trips for competitions, but we never explored much... I don’t really like night clubs, and the only free time we got was usually an evening after a day stuck in a hotel conference room. But technically I  _ have _ been to Canada, England, and France. Could never afford to travel for fun, so other than that, I’ve barely left my state.”

“Well then, welcome to England,” Thor turns at the intersection toward the motorway, indicating out the window with his head.  _ Enjoy what you can before we’re shot at again. I only wish I could let you walk around and explore more of it up close. _

“What about you? Travel much?” Steve returns the question, somehow managing to make it feel casual despite both of them still wearing their bullet-proof vests, driving a stolen car with a rifle for a backseat passenger, Thor armed to the teeth and scanning around them with more caution than the average busy highway driver should employ, all while wearing not the friendliest of expressions set into his firm features.

“A lot,” Thor agrees. “Like you, I don’t get much of a chance to explore. Usually it’s dark, and I’m busy.”

“Sorry...” Steve replies. “You’re concentrating. Don’t wanna distract you...” He falls silent again, finishing off his granola bar.

“It’s alright,” Thor leaps to reassure, though Steve is right that he can’t risk getting distracted in case an enemy pursuer emerges while his mind is elsewhere. This is fine though; Thor can watch for danger and talk at the same time. “Why don’t you tell me about your work?” he suggests. “We need to contact SHIELD when we have the opportunity anyway. Perhaps you can advise.”

Steve lights up. “Yeah, sure.” His eagerness to help is rapidly dissolved by the truth that they’re still very much in danger, and it shows in his posture – this guy is easier to read than anyone Thor’s ever met. Despite bearing obvious worry, Steve maintains a willingness to help, nudging up his glasses with regained confidence and steadier hands. “If you know where to look, I can get you there. What are we working with, radio, or internet?”

“Radio first,” Thor replies, tapping the wireless unit tucked in his breast pocket, what his earpiece is synced to. “SHIELD has many secure methods of communication, but we can’t risk most of them if SHIELD is compromised.”

“Who are you calling?” Steve asks, but again he catches himself. “Sorry... confidential...”

“I am no genius, but I believe you to be against HYDRA,” Thor notes. It’s never wise to place your trust in anyone in his business, but Thor is confident that Steve is at least not HYDRA. It seems a hasty conclusion, but Thor prides himself on being observant, and nothing about this man triggers any of his red flags. Besides, vital-signs don’t lie, and Steve was definitely terrified when Thor pulled the bag off his head in his cell – Steve isn’t a plant. Either that, or he’s the best liar that ever lived, and Thor will accept the bullet in the head that he deserves if he’s wrong. He nods down at Steve’s hands to make his point, though punching someone is no proof to die by that a person is against whoever they punched.

Steve looks away, his bashful smile returning as he rubs around his knuckles. “Yeah...”

Thor pulls the earpiece from his ear and undoes the elastic clasp to free the radio, passing both over. “Have a look,” he offers.

Steve straightens immediately and gathers both in his hands, putting the earpiece on the dash and switching on the radio. Thor risks a quick glance to enjoy, the younger man’s bright eyes darting over every face of the little black box, testing buttons and dials and places where the device comes apart. He turns up the volume and holds the earpiece to his ear, listening to the static and fiddling with the dials before turning the unit off again and going back to inspecting how it comes apart. Thor wishes he could pull over and watch, but he has to keep scanning the road for regular traffic and for suspicious driving alike.

“I need a screwdriver,” Steve says finally. “Probably some other stuff...”

Thor spots thee turn-off for the A689, knowing there’s a cluster of hardware stores along the River Tees not far from here. He speeds up and overtakes the car in front, following the roundabout to the other road. “What else?”

“A computer would be handy...” Steve tucks his glasses in his shirt, gaze still fixed on the radio. “This thing isn’t picking up anything at all... Do you know the frequency you’re trying to transmit?”

“Sort of...” Thor has the good sense to feel slightly embarrassed that he’s not more adept at this. Without Steve, or anyone similarly skilled, he would be hopeless, wasting precious time on trial and error. “It’s a bit more complicated than that. It is within the range of that device, but there is slightly more to it.”

Steve nods knowingly. “Right. There’ll be other security measures.”

“Fury’s top-secret channels cannot be accessed by basic radios alone,” Thor agrees.

“Fury your boss?” Steve looks up, leaning comfortably back in his seat and pushing his glasses back on.

Thor nods. “That he is. I was to report to him with updates. I doubt HYDRA has him, but whether he’s alright or not, I don’t know.”

“We’ll find him,” Steve reassures with a smile of confidence. I’ve tackled harder problems with fewer resources. The frequency is already huge.  And I’m good at finding things.”

“Is that what HYDRA  took you for, then?” Thor asks. “To find things for them?”

“Sorta...” Steve admits. “I was looking for them, actually.”

“How does a civilian even stumble upon such an organization?” Thor wonders, turning off onto the A19. “This is the first time I’ve encountered them, and SHIELD actively looks for groups like this.”

“It was sort of an accident,” Steve’s ears flush adorably. “I used to study cyber-security more broadly, but while I was  working I came across traces of them in other projects and decided to look into it. Tony and I – that's my project partner – started looking into it in our free time, and when we realized something pretty big was going on, we decided to work on it officially.”

“You stumbled into one of the largest black-market organizations in the world by accident,” Thor confirms.

“I guess...” Steve flushes a bit deeper, fiddling with the radio. “I couldn’t have done it without Tony. His specialty is AI – well, technically it’s everything – so he was the one who gathered up all the pieces and made the picture. I more... pointed him in the right direction.”

“That’s quite astonishing,” Thor happily admits, slowing as he spots a Toolstation ahead. “You must be proud.”

“Proud that an evil organization decided to hunt me down and kidnap me?” Steve laughs. He’s got a deep, powerful laugh, like someone who weighs eighty pounds heavier. “Yeah, I guess I am. If Tony were  here you’d be much more amazed by him than me... I’m glad he didn’t get kidnapped too, but he could have really helped.”

Thor shrugs, turning off the motorway and down the adjacent road. “Sounds like he needs you, too,” he says as he neatly tucks the car into the last curb-side spot across from the store. “What about you, what’s your specialty?”

Steve puts the radio on the dash and unzips his armored vest, taking the cash Thor hands him. “I’m HR,” he laughs, and Thor wants to leap in to say something to that slightly self-deprecating tone. Steve goes on though, smoothing out his shirt and doing up the buttons of his cardigan. “That’s not entirely a lie... But I lay out most of the framework for our projects, and I’m good at decoding.”

“It sounds as if you work well together,” Thor pulls a handful of bills from his vest and hands them over.

Steve snorts. “Well enough to get kidnapped for it,” he takes the money and quickly shuffles through it. “Thanks.”

“Is that enough?”

“More than,” Steve agrees with a cheerful smile. “I’ll be right back, I promise.”

“Fifteen minutes,” Thor orders, “or I’m coming in to find you. Yell if something goes wrong.” He rolls down the window halfway.

“How do I look?” Steve frowns, and Thor  _ knows _ the other man is asking whether or not he looks like an escaped hostage.

“Perfect,” Thor replies, grateful at least that he didn’t blurt out ‘hot’. Self-control is an essential asset for a SHIELD agent, one he can’t afford to abandon.

Steve salutes as he shuts the door behind him, and Thor swears a blush is lighting up the student’s face, as it is his own. Steve looks both ways before crossing the street, and enters the store. Thor sinks a bit lower in his seat to be certain most of his armored, weapon-covered torso isn’t easily visible to a passerby, keeping a close eye on everything within sight. Ideally, he would like to be higher up watching the world through the scope of his rifle, but if he walks out into the road dressed like this, the police will certainly get called.

Unfortunately, needs must: Thor spots a group of men cross the street only seconds after the door shuts behind Steve. They’re dressed in bulky jackets, looking around as they enter the store. Thor spots the bulge of hidden weapons, subtle shadows in the back and sides of the men’s clothing.  _ How the fuck did they find us so fast? _ Thor grits his teeth and stuffs his radio and earpiece back in his pocket. He grabs Steve’s vest and gets out of the car, drawing the rifle from the back seat. People move out of his way as he storms across the road and into the store. Phones are coming out to call and film, so Thor hurries into the aisles. The men have spotted him, and one of them pulls out his gun while the others spread out to look for Steve.

Thor shoves a woman behind a display before any bullets can fly her way, taking a shot himself in his vest. He lifts his rifle before another bullet can be aimed somewhere less protected and kills the shooter. People are running past in herds, trying to get out of the store as fast as possible without getting shot. Thor points his gun at the ceiling to avoid any chance of accidently shooting one of them and wades through, looking desperately for Steve’s blonde head. Guns are going off, people are yelling, and everything is chaos. Thor has no intention of causing collateral, but HYDRA don’t care, and they’re freely shooting at people who get in their way, regardless of whom. Children, too. Thor keeps glancing to the exits, fearful that he’ll see those men hauling Steve off.

Wherever Steve is doesn’t matter, because one of the men stands up on a kitchen counter display, a young girl in his arms and a gun to her head as he holds her crying for the people to see. His friends are all gathered around the base, and one of them shoots once at the ceiling, ceasing the commotion aside from the sobbing gasp of a woman realizing her child is at gunpoint. She doesn’t get a chance to cry out for her daughter, interrupted by the smug agent holding the child in a tight grip. “Steven Grant Rogers,” he says, “is in this building. I want him here, or the girl dies.”

Thor grinds his jaw and adjusts his grip on his gun, looking around for any signs of the blonde, praying he’ll stay right where he is.  _ Don’t play hero. I can get us out of this. _ “Put the kid down,” he says, carefully taking a step away from the nearest civilian just in case bullets start flying again. “This doesn’t have to get messy.”

“Says who?” the agent sneers, his accent distinctly American.  _ HYDRA is multi-national, I suppose. Any country can produce these heartless bastards. _ “We’re here for blood, lap-dog. Turn him over, or she dies.” The girl starts to scream but cuts herself off in fear, whimpering as the barrel of the gun is jammed against her temple. It’s not a bluff, Thor knows that much.

Thor wracks his brains for options, ready to hand himself over in her stead, but searching for an angle, something that won’t get anyone killed. Right now, he’s just a body-guard, with no value for taking. He opens his mouth, but is cut off by movement and a voice to his right.

Steve walks out of the shelving, the sleeves of his cardigan nervously pulled over his knuckles, but his expression brave and his chin held up as he walks closer. “Let her go,” he says firmly, with the slightest waver of fear. He doesn’t stop though, skirting away before Thor can grab his arm and yank him back. “Let her go, and you can have me.”

The HYDRA agent smiles and nods to one of his colleagues to advance and grab Steve roughly by the arm.

“Let her go.” Steve faces the leader directly, but doesn’t try to escape the man holding him. “Let her go now, and I won’t fight.”

“Very well,” the leader releases the girl, shoving her forward. She falls off the display counter and gets up, scrambling to her mother in tears while Steve’s captor tightens his grip and aims his gun at the student’s legs – they won’t kill someone so valuable, but maiming isn’t out of the question. That man looks very tempted to pull the trigger. Thor clenches his gun as the leader makes eye-contact. “Don’t move,” he orders, “or the boy loses a leg.”

Is it worth the risk? Is it worth inviting injury upon Steve to save him from the torture and eventual demise at the hand of HYDRA if he’s taken? What about all the information and skill Steve has? Nothing good will come of anything HYDRA manages to extract. Thor stares as people resume their flee from the store, while he fights to make a decision, and the right one. The agents are already spinning Steve around to lead him toward the door at the back of the store, one man on each of Steve’s arms, that gun continually trained on his legs. Thor can’t fail.

He’s not out of options – the opening is made for him as Steve suddenly moves his arms in the strong grips holding them, and drops a screwdriver out of his sleeve, stabbing it into the leg of the man on his right with a startling yell. Thor lifts his gun and shoots the man aiming his own at Steve, killing him dead while the other rips the screwdriver from his leg with a cry of pain. Steve shoves him over before he can draw a weapon, and Thor kills him too, tossing Steve his vest. “Put it on!” he orders. “Run!” The men are all drawing their guns and giving orders, while Steve shrugs his vest back on and they both bolt for the main exit, weaving through shelving. Bullets quickly start to pelt them, and Thor does his best to keep himself between Steve and the fire while turning around to kill anyone he can. They’re taking cover behind the shelving as they follow, and he doesn’t manage another hit before they’re in the street again. “Car!” he orders, but Steve is already stumbling around the hood and getting into his seat. Thor follows, a bullet striking the door as he closes it.

Sirens are approaching. Thor fires up the engine and shoves Steve back in his seat as a bullet shatters the driver’s and passenger-side window before they can leave the parking space. HYDRA’s men are on their tail instantly, one going to get the car while the others stand in the road to shoot. Steve slides down in his seat as bullets break the back windshield, shaking again. He’s done immensely well. Thor couldn’t be more impressed. He grits his teeth and asks of this old car everything it has. Luckily, it’s in good condition despite being older, and it flies down the road as well as could be expected. Thor slams his palm into the horn, but people are already moving out the way because of the faster black sedan approaching with four gunmen hanging out the windows. Thor throws his rifle back in the rear seat and draws his handgun instead, carefully watching out the mirror and waiting for a straight bit before turning and shooting out the shattered rear window. His bullet strikes reinforced glass, leaving nothing but a crack. There’s no way he can ask Steve to shoot for him – he can’t ask Steve to kill, nor expose himself to fire to risk taking a shot of his own.

Thor decides to worry about destination later, and escaping now, navigating the busy daytime traffic as safely as he can as he searches for an avenue of escape. The black sedan gains, with its newer, faster engine and tighter steering. With so much other traffic around, Thor can’t just chuck another grenade out of the sun-roof, aside from the fact that this car doesn’t _ have _ a sun-roof. “Take the wheel!” he yells, and Steve reaches over and grabs it, steadying the car so Thor can lean out the window and fire a few shots. A bullet grazes his arm and shatters the wing mirror, and his gun clicks empty. Thor pulls back in, managing the pedals while he reloads. He puts his gun in his lap only so he can perform a last-second hand-brake turn back onto the motorway. The black sedan mirrors the maneuver and keeps shooting, this time aiming for the car instead of the driver and blowing a back wheel. The car lurches, the back corner throwing up sparks as it drags long.

Now driving lessons Thor  _ did _ pay attention to, so he knows what to do, and makes the best of the situation while Steve hangs tight to whatever he can, still slumped in his seat so he doesn’t take a bullet in the back of the head. Thor allows the car to fly into a spin, encouraging it. He picks up his gun and  lets go of the wheel to steady his aim, shooting out his window while his car is perpendicular to the oncoming vehicle. With a couple of shots and a little luck, he hits one of the shooters in the back-passenger seat. That’s the best he can do for now, because right now they need to get out of this car. Fortunately, traffic has mostly stopped because there’s  a police road-block up ahead and people have abandoned their cars to flee from the threat.

Thor coaxes the last few meters out of their limping vehicle, keeping a close eye on their pursuers, who are gaining much faster now. He straightens out of the spin to slot the Citroen between two other cars, protecting them from another round of shots, but it’s already too late – the black sedan is on them, as soon as they scrape between those two cars, aimed straight for them. The larger, stronger sedan crumples the driver’s side of the older vehicle, throwing them into the bridge barrier. Steve yelps as he’s thrown in his seat and his head bounces off the window, and Thor winces as the door buckles against his leg. He’s lucky it’s not crushed or broken, really, but that will bruise.

The car is backing up to ram them again, and Thor takes his chance to shoot at them, hitting another HYDRA agent in the shoulder before he has to duck from return fire. He quickly shoots a glance over, but Steve’s head is drooped, his glasses lopsided and a small smear of blood on the window.  _ Fuck me, _ Thor fumbles for his rifle and simultaneously snatches Steve’s wrist for a pulse – he's alive, as least. That’s a start. Thor looks back to see the sedan accelerating toward them, and whips out his arm to stabilize Steve against the harsh impact that crumples the car further and strains the barrier holding them from the water below.

They need to get out, and now. Thor turns away as the sedan backs up again, and shoots out Steve’s window, undoing the other man’s seatbelt. They have to jump, and they have to do it fast. Thor needs to shove Steve out that window and into the water.  _ Fuck me, _ he growls vehemently to himself. This would be a lot easier if Steve would fucking wake up... He’s still breathing, which is good, because this is a hell of a place to perform CPR, but he’s still just slumped there useless.  _ One way to keep you from jumping into a fight... Why couldn’t you have knocked yourself out before throwing yourself out of a tree? Someone please knock me out too. It’s not fair. _

The enemy rams them yet again, and this time the barrier snaps. Not enough to break wide open and let them fall, but enough to weaken it. And when the car backs up, the guns come out once more. Thor ducks down and takes Steve with him, wincing as bullets pelt the car, until he realizes they’re aiming at the back.

They’re aiming for the fuel tank. Thor’s eyes widen and he kicks frantically at Steve’s door, trying to break it open against the bridge railing stopping him. He doesn’t manage, and he can’t slide Steve through the window before the fuel tank explodes, destroying part of the railing and engulfing most of the car in flames. Thor coughs and fumbles for Steve, but the sedan is ramming them again, and this time the whole car topples off the bridge.

Bullets are ripping into the car before it hits the water. Thor barely manages to take a deep breath in time. The splash is monumental, but he quickly finds his bearings, opening his eyes under-water and focusing better now that everything is quieter. Bullets streak past trailing bubbles. Maybe they’ve given up on trying to take their prisoner alive by now.

At the very least, the fire is put out, and it doesn’t take long to reach the bottom of the river. The current isn’t too strong either, but enough to help carry them farther than they could move with their own swimming power. Or at least Thor’s swimming power... Steve is still  lax an unconscious, bubbles trailing from his open mouth. Thor grabs Steve’s glasses which have become dislodged and are floating freely, tucking them in his vest and slinging his rifle to his back. Then he opens his door, grabs Steve by the shoulder, and pulls them both out of the car.

The current immediately begins to sweep them away from the last few bullets that pepper the water, though Thor knows this isn’t the last they’ll see of HYDRA. For now, they need to get to dry land. Thor doesn’t stay under for as long as he could have, swimming sideways as the current whisks them down-river and popping up as close to the shore as he can. When he surfaces, the bridge is sufficiently far away that he knows bullets can’t hit them from here. He wraps his arm around Steve’s chest and backstrokes to the shore, dragging both of them onto the bank and into the shelter of trees before he drops his rifle and lays Steve flat. Steve’s not bleeding anymore, but he isn’t breathing, water dribbling between his lips. His eyelashes are dark and heavy, closed and still.

But he still has a pulse. Thor pushes his hands into Steve’s chest with strong and urgent compressions. “Come on,” he growls. “We haven’t got all fucking day. Do something useful.” Maybe it would be kinder to leave Steve at the bottom of the river, where he would be free from HYDRA. That would be a quick and painless death.  _ No fucking way, _ Thor can feel his body responding with an animalistic growl at the thought, pushing harder into Steve’s chest.

The compressions work. Steve jolts, his eyes flying open and his body wrenching involuntarily as he coughs up a lungful of water. Thor helps him rolls onto his side, holding him so his body can expel what’s choking him. Steve hacks and splutters for what seems like ages until most of the water has left him and he collapses, rolling back into Thor’s arms with a moan, wracked with tremors. Thor’s not sure what’s causing them, the cool air on his wet body, pain, or overall shock. More water gurgles from Steve’s mouth as he coughs again and clutches Thor’s arm.

“It’s alright,” Thor promises, scooping the other man’s upper body off the grass. He hesitates at first, but Steve it curling into him and fumbling for a hand-hold on his vest, so Thor just has to wrap him in a hug. “It’s alright. You’re alright.” Steve’s head flops wearily into his shoulder and he tenses with another weak cough, a few more river dregs dribbling through his lips as he gasps for breath.

All things  considered, Thor decides things went as well as they could have. He gives Steve a little more time to recover, but they need to move and find shelter while they still have some distance between them and HYDRA. Both of them are still in good shape, and though Steve doesn’t look completely present, he can at least stand up and put one foot in front of the other with Thor’s help. That’s a good enough start, and it’ll get them to safety.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even in a life-or-death situation, there's still time to be horny.

His head already throbs before he’s fully emerged from the haze. Steve groans and shifts his arms under the towels and warm duvets wrapped around him, reaching up to rub his face. At first he thinks he’s in his bedroom back home, but his walls aren’t that color, and that blurry person getting out of the chair to his right and walking closer isn’t a family member. Steve shivers and huddles under the blankets, battling a tremor despite his comfortable warmth.

Someone speaks, but he can’t make out the muffled words. The man leans on the bed – Thor, dressed in a black t-shirt that hugs his toned body, concern in his stern features, lips moving. Steve can just about hear words, but his closer ear sounds like it’s stuffed with cotton, like Thor is speaking from miles away. He strains to sit, working his arms under the heavy blankets so he can push himself up and look for his hearing-aid. Fuck, he didn’t lose it, did he...? It didn’t fall out while they were running, or when he fell in the river, did it...? Steve whips his head in frantic search for it, and instantly regrets it with the pain that flares.

A firm hand lands on his bare shoulder, while another touches his jaw with surprising tenderness and angles his face. Steve looks up into Thor’s blue eyes and holds still while the agent lets go and reaches for the nightstand to produce his hearing-aid. Steve drags his hand up his chest and out from under the blankets, fumbling for it but still too shaky to grasp something so small. Calmly, Thor stills him and loops it over his ear, pushing in the earpiece more delicately than is necessary. Steve pushes it in a bit further and paws at the dial to switch it on, but struggles to get his fingers to grasp the small protrusion. Again, Thor moves his hand aside to help, turning up the volume until Steve gives him a nod that it’s high enough.

Neither of them speaks while Thor picks up Steve’s glasses off the nightstand and unfolds the arms, carefully sliding them on. The blurriness immediately clears. “Where are we...?” Steve murmurs hoarsely, tasting mud at the back of his throat. A tickle in his throat draws out a cough, exacerbating the foul flavor.

“Hotel,” Thor replies, walking around the bed to the small table pushed against the wall. Steve follows with his eyes and watches Thor adjust the plain white mug underneath before pushing the start button. He bends down and opens the fridge, pulling out the second mug and dumping ice from it into a cloth, which he bundles up and offers over. “How do you feel?”

Given he nearly drowned, Steve’s surprised he feels as well as he does, though his body is clearly still suffering from the events that got them here, including the crying girl HYDRA threatened to kill. Steve shivers and takes the ice, pushing it against what must be an impressive bruise on his temple. “Okay. What happened...?”

“We fell,” Thor explains, producing the last of their gas-station orange juice supply and taking off the lid. He presses two pills into Steve’s hand. “In the river. Not the set-back I was anticipating, but it did make a good means of escape. We’ll be safe here for a few hours.”

Steve swallows the pills with a few mouthfuls of orange juice, glad to have the flavor of river water washed away by the sweet, acidic drink. “Did you carry me...?” Thor looks capable of managing that kind of weight, and though Steve isn’t heavy compared to other people his height, he’s still only a couple inches shorter than Thor himself.

“You walked,” Thor replies, dropping the empty juice bottle in the garbage can. “Though I’m not surprised you don’t remember. Do you feel ill?”

Steve shakes his head. No, not ill, just... shaken. He has vague memories of walking through greenery with Thor’s support, then being helped into a car at some point, then finally a few seconds of their elevator journey to this floor.

“Good,” Thor takes the mug from under the last few gurgled drips and puts a little milk in the hot liquid to cool it to drinking temperature, offering it up. “I don’t think you have a concussion, but certainly a nasty bruise. You should rest.”

Steve puts down the ice so he can steady the mug in both hands, holding it close to his chest and sipping the hot liquid. It tastes like hotel coffee, but he couldn’t care. “Seems all I’ve been doing is resting... You should sleep too.” They’ve been on the run for a couple of days at least, and he hasn’t seen Thor shut his eyes once.

“I’m alright,” Thor reassures with a smile that Steve immediately distrusts, merely for the fact that it’s wider than normal on the agent’s stern features. It’s a good look, but an odd one. And Thor’s limping. Not badly, but enough that it’s noticeable. His hair is slicked back with water, and his clothes are damp, but at least his boots and socks are right there beside Steve’s next to the radiator. Thor walks around the bed and takes up his chair again, laying his rifle in his lap and taking a cloth from his waistband to resume cleaning it.

Steve drinks his coffee. “I’m really okay, if you want to sleep... Or at least shower...” There are cuts and bruises all over what skin is visible on the other man, though nothing looks too serious; a shallow tear on his arm from the bullet that clipped it, and a few marks on his face from various fights. Steve’s suffered worse from his own fights back in his youth, so he’s not too worried about those, either.

“I was going to get us something to eat first,” Thor explains, finishing with his rifle and standing up. He puts it with their other supplies on the couch. “I might shower after that. If you feel alright, you can shower while I’m gone.”

Thor is trying to give him some privacy. Steve rubs his head, fingers brushing the piece of gauze taped there, and the hot, swollen skin all around it. He feels fine to stand. “I won’t fall,” he promises. “I’ll be careful.”

“Perhaps we should make certain,” Thor suggests, taking away the empty coffee mug. “If you wish.”

“Okay,” Steve agrees, pulling off the blankets and clutching the towel around his body. Thor’s hand wraps around his and helps him sit, the other steadying his shoulder as he stands. To Steve’s relief, he feels steady. “Thanks.”

“Be careful,” Thor starts to move away. “I won’t be long.”

Steve stops him, looking the agent from top to bottom. Even without his guns and body armor, he looks... ready for a fight. Huge, imposing. “My shirt,” he points at the radiator where it’s draped. “Might make you look a bit more... normal.” He smiles bashfully.

Thor looks down at himself. “I suppose so,” he agrees, walking over to the radiator to take up the shirt, putting his arms through the sleeves. It looks dry enough, but the sleeves are snug around Thor’s wide biceps, and he can barely do up the buttons around his broad chest. Luckily, Steve is large enough in the shoulders himself that it goes on well enough. It certainly helps Thor appear more like a civilian, though the pale blue fabric doesn’t swallow the shadows his muscles form beneath. Steve has to force himself not to stare as Thor sits to put his boots back on. The agents  hides a knife in one of them, and another smaller one up one sleeve.

In a few minutes, Thor has left the room, and Steve is alone. It’s not a good feeling. Steve shivers and walks into the bathroom, shutting the door and leaving the towel on the counter. He looks into the mirror and twists so he can get a better look at his body. There are bruises all over him, the biggest ones a product of his fall from the tree, and his collision with the car window. There’s a small split under the gauze when he pulls it off his head. Nothing worse than anything he’s dealt with in the past, though. Steve takes off his underwear, glasses, and hearing-aid, and turns on the shower, stepping under the hot stream that immediately starts to ease the ache in his muscles. It’s not like he’s got anywhere to be, but squeezing some soap from the little bottle on the shelf into his hair makes him feel somewhat normal. It stings the tender cut as the soapy water runs down his face, but it smells good, and it feels good to be clean again. After so many days since his last shower, it feels like he’s caked in grime.

With heaps of willpower he leaves the hot water and carefully gets out of the shower, wary that if he suddenly feels dizzy, it’s a long way down, and there are lots of hard things to fall on, with not much space between him and them. The last thing Thor needs is a concussed companion, which they’re lucky enough to have avoided. Steve dries himself off, dabbing around the wound on his forehead and carefully rubbing his hair dry. He cleans the smudges off his glasses in the sink and leaves them by the coffee maker as he walks out to retrieve his clothes, pushing his hearing-aid back in.

By now, his clothes are dry enough. Steve puts on his underwear and jeans, doing up the belt around his waist, suddenly thinking about the fact that Thor stripped him almost entirely naked. They’re both men, and the reason was purely medical, practical, to ensure he didn’t catch a chill, but the thought warms his cheeks all the same. Steve’s always been aware of his preference of men, and Thor’s the most ‘man’ Steve’s ever seen.

_ Inappropriate. _ Steve shakes his head and rubs his shoulders, going back to sit on the bed while he waits, bare-chested. They’re so different, Thor large and roped in muscle, while Steve is still growing out of his skinny teenaged-body, all limbs. His wrists haven’t changed in diameter since he was twelve. What little baby fat he was born with was gone by the age of five, and he’s barely started to gain muscle within the last couple of years. Then again, with all his projects, there’s little time to visit the gym.

He’s still shaking. Steve holds himself tightly, doing his very best not to think about the bang of bullets and the scream of people struggling to escape the store, or the scream of the little girl, or the cruel chuckling of the HYDRA agents as they started to lead him away. He tries not to think about what little he remembers of the car chase across the bridge, then waking up on the river bank on his back, vaguely aware that Thor had just saved his life, that he’d been helpless for the time that had passed since losing consciousness.

The lock clicks, and the door swings open. Steve jumps and turns, but it’s just Thor, a plastic bag in each hand. He surveys Steve, his eyes lingering on Steve’s bare chest for a fraction longer, then up to the exposed mark on his forehead. “You look better.”

“I feel better,” Steve agrees, watching the agent put the bags on the end of the bed. He’s still limping. Steve frowns. “Are you okay...? Did you get hit?” He can’t see any holes in the agent’s pants.

“I’m alright,” Thor reassures hastily. “Just bruised.” He undoes the buttons and takes off Steve’s shirt, tossing it back.

Steve shrugs it on, each button taking longer than usual to do up because of his anxiety-induced tremor. “Okay.”  _ If you say so. _

Thor takes a few things out of the bags and shoves the rest into the fridge, coming to sit with a sigh and a restrained wince. With sandwiches passes out, they sit on the edge of the bed to eat in silence until Thor speaks up. The agent swallows and looks over. “That was very brave,” he says. “Again, stupid, but brave. You and I are going to be at odds, aren’t we.”

Steve shrugs, a little smile tugging at his lips. “You didn’t tell me not to.”

“I’d  have told you to stay hidden.”

“They’d have found me anyway,” Steve replies confidently. “Not like I could have just slipped away. And where would I go without you? I can’t use a gun, I don’t know how to steal a car, and I don’t know where I would hide, or how to get in touch with you so you could find me again. Besides, I wasn’t leaving you there. They don’t want to kill me, right? Means they can’t just shoot freely with me around.”

Thor is quiet for a moment. “No, but they can still hurt you. And they can change their minds at any moment. I’m  beginning to think they may be willing to kill you if there is no opportunity to capture you alive.”

“Yeah, but they could have done that with or without hurting the girl. Coming out on my own meant I at least had a little control.” Steve pales at the thought that his survival may not be a guarantee though, it shouldn’t be as troublesome as it is because they’re already very willing to torture and cause general harm. In favor of his argument, he decides not to comment on that.

Thor shakes his head, but when Steve looks up there’s a small smile on his lips too. “I cannot imagine how you did not annoy HYDRA so badly they decided it better to kill you while they had you on the farm.”

“Nobody got shot,” Steve remarks. “So it worked out. You’re really okay, right?”

“Really,” Thor reassures, amusement glinting in his eyes. “I’m fine, I promise.”

“I’ll take your word for it then.”

“Good. Or perhaps next time I will leave you at the bottom of the river for the trouble you’re worth.” There’s no malice in it, only mild annoyance that’s completely dwarfed by good-natured teasing.

It eases Steve’s nerves, drawing a laugh from his chest. “Thanks again, by the way... Saved me again.”

“It’s still my job,” Thor notes. “But again, you’re welcome. And you’re certain you’re alright as well?”

“Yeah,” Steve holds out his hand. It’s not vibrating so badly anymore, but he’s still clearly agitated. “I’m just...”  _ Scared. Scared to die. Scared of what’ll  _ _ happen, scared _ _ for my family and friends. _

There’s a pause, then a hand lands between his shoulder blade and awkwardly pats him. “It’s... it’s okay,” Thor says, and it sounds like it takes a lot of effort to say those words. But the effort is what reassures Steve, not the result, though he appreciates those calmly-spoken words, and he believes them. He believes that Thor will protect him, and fight to get him to safety. Thor’s got huge hands, full of strength even laid gently on Steve’s shoulder. “It’ll be alright,” Thor says again, even quieter and gentler this time. “I will make sure of it.”

“I know,” Steve replies. “But I’m still scared.” Right now they have no other allies, none they’re in contact with at least.

“I would be concerned if you were not,” Thor approves. “A moron would have no fear, which I already know you are not.”

“Thanks...?” Steve quirks his head with a smile, but it does make him feel better. “What about you...? Are you scared?”

“Sometimes,” Thor replies, keeping his hand where it is. “I used to be, but not so much anymore. Fear can keep you alive... But sometimes it can lock up your body, and there can be no room for error in my work. So, perhaps I am a moron.”

“I don’t think so,” Steve says. “I mean, maybe a little, but you’ve been keeping an eye on the details since we started. You’ve been keeping ahead of HYDRA all on your own. That’s gotta take some level of intelligence.”

“If you say so,” Thor huffs, smiling distantly at the blinds covering the window. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re doing very well.”

“At getting myself into trouble?” Steve chuckles, uncertain how to respond as his cheeks flood with warmth. “ Trouble you keep getting me out of?”

“It would be unfair to agree,” Thor actually chuckles back, “seeing as you’ve actually helped a great deal.”

“Maybe I could help more,” Steve suggests. “In a fight, I mean... Would you teach me? How to use a gun? Just in case...” Not that he wants to shoot anyone, or even thinks he’s capable of it, but if it’s just the two of them, wouldn’t it be safer if he could at least use one? What if they’re surrounded? What if Thor can’t cover all sides, or they’re being chased in a car again?

“No.” Thor stands up, stern again. “You’re scared because you’re whole. Shooting someone –  _ killing _ someone changes you, and I will not teach you how to do that. I don’t want you to become something you aren’t.”

Steve doesn’t want that either. He hangs his head and stares at the sandwich held in his hands. “You’re right...” he shakes his head. “Stupid, sorry...” He just hates the idea that he could be the cause of misfortune of any kind. The more skills he has, the more he can help. That’s all he wants, not to be dead-weight.

“Not stupid,” Thor hastily corrects, tossing his sandwich wrapper in the trash. “I just want you to sleep through as many nights as you can when this is over, go back to your normal life. Killing someone makes that much more difficult.”

It’s not lost on Steve that Thor seems to be speaking from personal experience – of course he is. He’s killed lots of people on this mission alone, and he clearly isn’t... normal, or okay. Not entirely. Then again, Steve just met him, and they’re practically strangers. Strangers who have faced life-or-death situations together, and who will likely face more before they part ways again. Be that when the mission ends, or one of them dies. Steve’s hands shake around the remainder of his sandwich, and his chest tightens. He doesn’t want to die. He doesn’t want  _ Thor _ to die either, for a multitude of reason, one of which being he has a general concern for just about anyone, and Thor seems nice under that tough exterior.

Thor  _ is _ kind, and he’s lurching back over, his hastiness broken by his hesitance. The agent reaches out to make contact once more.

“I’m really scared,” Steve whispers. It’s not something he would ordinarily say, but he is. “Really scared. I don’t want to die. I don’t want  _ you _ to die. I want to see my family again.”

“I know.” Thor sits and shuffles closer. “I know. I will protect  you, I promise. We’ll contact SHIELD, and they’ll help us. They will protect your family too.”

Thor radiates heat and power, driving Steve farther into submitting to his urge to curl up against it. He’s not as small as he used to be, but Thor makes him feel that way just to be near him. It’s reassuring, even if Steve has always been driven to prove that he’s just as strong and capable as everyone else. That doesn’t matter here. It doesn’t matter if he’s strong, because that won’t help much against guns. This isn’t a playground fist-fight. These aren’t school bullies. These are trained, cruel, truly wicked people hunting for blood. Despite wanting to help within this impossible situation far beyond his depth, he could really use even just a brief hug. Steve does his best to fight it, to fight the urge to cry, because Thor needs to focus on keeping them alive, not comforting him... But they’re safe in this hotel room for now, aren’t they? If any time is a good time to show a little weakness, it’s here.

“What  are y-” Thor starts, but he doesn’t try to stop it as Steve slowly leans in for the hug. In fact, when the agent has recovered from his moment of shock, he hugs back. The gesture is tentative at first, but when Steve squeezes, Thor squeezes too. Right here in the groove of Thor’s impossibly bulky chest feels safe. Huge arms hold his quaking body, and a thumb slowly begins to rub into his shoulder. “It’s alright,” Thor murmurs.

“Sorry,” Steve moans quietly. “I’m sorry...”

“Don’t be,” Thor shakes his head. “Don’t be. Let it out.”

That’s all the invitation he needs to allow himself to cry out days’ worth of pent-up anxiety. Steve pushes his face unabashedly into Thor’s pec to muffle his sobs, finding comfort in the hard muscle squished against his cheek. Fuck, Thor is huge... Steve’s never been held by someone so strong, not even when he was much smaller. Hands that have killed and wounded who-knows-how many men hold him with the perfect mix of firm but comforting, and Steve couldn’t feel more content collapsed in the arms of a trained killer.

When he runs out of tears, he feels a lot better. Reluctant to move away from his sanctuary, Steve sniffs and turns sideways, resting his head on Thor’s shoulder with a sigh. “Sorry...” he whispers again. “Didn’t mean for that to happen...”

“Only a psychopath wouldn’t be bothered by all of this,” Thor reassures. “It is no bother. I’m no expert, but I think this is the healthy response.”

Steve shrugs weakly. He has no idea. “Thanks,” he says instead, rubbing his eyes. Thor doesn’t say anything, giving Steve a reassuring pat between the shoulder blades. That’s all Steve really needs anyway. He sits reluctantly off of Thor’s chest and rubs his eyes dry, a little embarrassed for his break-down, but definitely better for it. “We never properly introduced, did we...” he offers his hand and a shy, damp smile. “I’m Steve.”

“Thor,” Thor takes the hand in his own and clasps it firmly. “And no, I guess we didn’t. A little rude, I suppose.”

“You had other things on your mind,” Steve shrugs, much more at ease again. “Thor’s a pretty odd name.”

“Technically it’s my code name,” Thor replies with a good-natured smile. “My real name is Donald Blake. But the only people who call me that are doctors.”

Steve frowns and inspects the other man. “You don’t look like a Donald...”

“No?” Thor tips his head, bemused. “What do I look like?”

“You look like a Thor,” Steve resolves. “What you want to be called?”

“Thor works,” Thor smiles.

“Thor it is, then,” Steve rubs the last few tears off his face. “You  wanna have that nap...? I’ll keep watch. I’ll wake you up if something happens.”

“Perhaps I will,” Thor stands up. “I will shower first. Are you well?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” Steve smiles reassuringly. “Thank you, really... I just don’t want to get in the way.”

“You won’t,” Thor shakes his head. “You haven’t.”

“If you say so,” Steve submits with a grateful smile and a heavy sigh.

They part ways, Thor walking into the bathroom to have his shower, and Steve moving from the bed to the desk chair so the other man can get the rest he deserves, and surely needs by now. Thor is only in the bathroom for a few minutes before the water shuts off and he emerges naked, holding his clothes which are damp from the wash he must have given them, a towel wrapped around his waist. Steve’s never seen a man who looks like Thor, someone so covered in muscle not at all for display. This is fighting muscle, muscle generated from hard work instead of purely sculpted for aesthetic in a gym. This is muscle made for a job, strengthened to ensure it can outlast enemies and protect those who need it. Steve can’t help but be mesmerized as Thor walks by and drapes his clothes over the radiator, his scarred, tattoo-covered body rippling with the slightest movement. There are bruises and scrapes, too, from their numerous battles within only a couple of days. Thor is blotched with them, especially down one leg. It looks painful, and Thor has sunken into his limp, his face bearing the signs of fatigue as he turns and walks toward the sofa to his vest. He rummages in the pockets, pulling out the radio and tossing it over. Steve quickly reaches up to catch it, and nearly misses that Thor is opening a bottle of pills and quickly swallowing two – that’s not the gas-station Ibuprofren.

“Wake me in three hours,” Thor orders, gesturing vaguely at the digital clock on the table. “Or if something goes wrong. Don’t leave, or open the curtains.”

Steve nods obediently, and Thor crawls under the covers, sinking into the clean sheets with a quiet sigh Steve almost doesn’t catch. Before the agent can fall asleep, Steve grabs the bundle of half-melted ice wrapped in the damp cloth from the nightstand, offering it. “Here,” he urges. “Take it.”

For a moment Thor just stares, but finally he takes the cloth with a grateful smile and brings it under the blankets to his leg. “Thank you,” he murmurs, and shuts his eyes.

Pleased, Steve takes up his guard post and sets the radio on the desk. They still have no tools, but the money Thor gave him is still in his pocket when he checks, neatly folded up and a little damp. Steve pads quietly over to the couch and opens the pouch he saw Thor take it from, tucking the bills in with the rest. He glances over where he knows hides a bottle of pills, then back at Thor’s sleeping mass in the bed. Confident that Thor is asleep deeply enough, Steve quietly opens the pouch flap and lifts the bottle out far enough to read the label: Oxycodone. Steve tucks the bottle away with tight lips, padding back to his desk chair and staring at the radio. Thor is on Oxy, for one reason or another – maybe for pain, if he’s that scarred from other jobs. There were a few deep ones on his upper body alone. Concerned, Steve picks up the radio and tries not to think about it.

Working on this project will help keep his mind busy, though he might not get far since he still has no tools. Steve tries the dials, but no sound comes out; water must have gotten in and broken it. He sighs and puts it down again, staring at the panel screwed tightly shut. The only thing he can get open is the battery case, but there’s not much he can do behind there. Steve puts the box down and turns his attention back to Thor’s shoulders swelling with each breath. The most notable tattoo is the sword drawn on his back, the hilt visible between his shoulders while the blade carries down his spine and disappears under the covers. The designs and writing look Scandinavian, but Steve doesn’t know any of those languages, so it’s meaningless. It’s a beautiful design though, done in greyscale. There are more designs and writing that match wrapping around his biceps. Steve wonders what else Thor has tattooed under the blankets, under the towel he never removed from his waist. It feels so wrong that this is like a fantasy, having a man like this right in front of him, sprawled asleep in white sheets. If myths walked among men, they would certainly look like Thor.

Has the trauma already snapped him? Steve isn’t a lusting person, though he knows a beautiful man when he sees one. Maybe there’s something seriously wrong with, some desperate need to be protected manifesting itself as sexual desire.  _ You think too much sometimes, Rogers. _ He can hear Bucky’s voice in his head. Maybe he  _ is _ overthinking this, and he’s just attracted to the guy. Steve’s pretty sure that even straight guys would be attracted to a man like that, so physically perfect. If Steve hadn’t already had his awakening, he figures that’s a good chance this would have done it for him.

Luckily, he’s smart enough not to act on his thoughts, and keep them to himself. This is a professional setting, and a life-or-death one. If he gets lost in Thor’s eyes (or any part of him, really) he might take a bullet in the head for his distraction.  _ Statistically, he’s probably straight anyway. _

For now, he can imagine the sorts of things Thor would do to him, and enjoy them for the next two hours and forty-three minutes.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh-oh time. And Steve is still a bad boi who doesn't do as he's told.
> 
> Thanks for y'alls feedback! I'm working on a cover for this story, and I hope to get it finished soon! For now, have a peek B) For those of you who follow me on [tumblr](https://stormyandrescuer.tumblr.com/), and/or [twitch](https://www.twitch.tv/sketchy_faye), I want to revisit some old art from my first fic to celebrate its first birthday!

Thor opens his eyes two hours and fifty-seven minutes later, sliding out of bed. 

A nap did him good, Thor will admit that. He can go without any rest for a few days, but this mission is going on for longer than anticipated, and after so many clashes with HYDRA, his body needed a break regardless of how used to this lifestyle it is. To be honest, it could use a little more, but there’s no time. 

And Steve looks good too. He’s already on his feet when Thor turns, the nasty mark on his head already improved. 

Thor can rest his leg in another stolen car. The old wound isn’t happy with the jostling it received when it was driven into. Some medication has helped, and the background ache he can ignore. It won’t impede him if (more likely when) another fight breaks out, and that’s all that matters. A slight limp isn’t an issue, so long as he’s careful not to strain himself. Then again, if he does strain it, he can always medicate himself through the pain. 

Steve is staring. Thor quickly turns his back before it becomes obvious that he enjoys the attention. What’s captured the blonde’s attention, though? Is it his tattoos? His scars? Thor bends over a little more deliberately than necessary, dropping the towel as he does and taking the rest of the food he bought from the fridge. He stands up, and the bed covers the most important bits. Curious and hopeful, he inspects Steve’s expression as subtly as he can and holds out the bag. “Eat,” he orders. It’s dinner time. 

Steve nods and takes the bag, sitting back down in his chair while Thor walks around the bed to the radiator. He can feel the younger man’s eyes on him, and can’t help but spread his shoulders a little wider as he picks up his dry clothes. It may have been polite to dress in the bathroom, but Thos likes to imagine the other man is checking him out. Admiring his tattoos, at least, if not the muscle underneath. There are a lot of inked designs, scattered all over his body, just like his variety of scars. Steve’s very welcome to stare at anything he wants. 

Unfortunately, they can’t hang around this hotel room staring at each other. _Fuck HYDRA._ It’s easy to blame them, as if Thor would actually be able to find out if a) Steve likes men, b) is single, and c) would want to engage in anything remotely sexual. A kiss. Thor would quite like that. _That would be nice._ It’s been a while since he’s seen a pair of lips like that on a man _or_ a woman, let alone accompanied by such a perceptive pair of eyes with such radiant depth of blue. It’s not every day you meet someone so intelligent, brave, kind, and walking around in a body like that. Why couldn’t he meet a guy like Steve in a normal place, like a bar or a coffee shop? Then at least he could offer to buy the guy a drink. Orange juice from a petrol station doesn’t count. _Fuck HYDRA to hell and back._

Too soon, he’s dressed and ready to go, tightening the straps of his vest and holstering his weapons. He holds up Steve’s vest and helps the other man into it. Steve can handle it, but it’s an excuse to be close. It brings him pleasure to imagine closing the gap between them and enjoying this large hotel bed for just one more hour. Thor makes sure the straps are done up and cups Steve’s cheek to turn his head into the light. Then he holds it steady with the other hand and inspects the swollen mark on Steve’s head more closely. He’s already determined that it’s fine, already cleaned it while Steve was asleep, but it doesn’t hurt to look at it again. Steve holds still, accepting of the inspection with trusting eyes and pink in his soft cheeks. 

A weaker man wouldn’t let go until he’d had a taste of those lightly-parted lips. Fortunately, Thor is well-trained, so he’s able to pull away and just smile instead. “Did you have any luck with the radio?” He nods over Steve’s shoulder where it’s resting on the desk. 

“No,” Steve sighs apologetically, turning away to grab it and tuck it into one of his vest pockets. “I can’t get the back off without a screwdriver, and it’s waterlogged anyway, so it won’t even turn on. Something probably shorted.” 

“We’ll buy some supplies,” Thor agrees. The shops will still be open, so Steve will have the chance to work on fixing the radio tonight. If he can get it going, they might be able to meet up with Fury tomorrow. _Wouldn’t that be a fucking miracle._

Steve helps keep an eye out while they travel down one floor to the parkade, making sure there’s no-one to spot Thor openly carrying his rifle and dressed for a fight. Even if anyone spots them on the surveillance cameras, which Thor still does his best to avoid, they’ll be gone before anyone can show up. HYDRA is welcome track them here, which isn’t very far from where they crawled from the river, but Thor intends to swap cars before the night is out, so their trail will go dry very shortly. 

Their current vehicle is parked right where he left it. Thor gets in and puts his rifle in the backseat where is usually goes, and takes the parking pass off the dash. Steve sits in the passenger seat with their left-over groceries in his lap, counting on his fingers and mouthing words under his breath as he makes his shopping list. It’s kind of adorable to watch him frown and nod to himself while he figures out what he needs to fix their busted radio. Thor starts the engine and exits the parkade, searching for anything suspicious. Staying in a hotel was a risky move, but Steve needed the rest in a proper bed, and the car was safe from prying eyes. Thor would rather have the police called on them for using a stolen license plate than HYDRA happen upon them parked in some random lot. 

The hardware store is a few miles down the motorway. Thor’s picked a different retailer this time, but he still parks on the curb across from the entrance. “Open the glove box,” he orders while counting some bills from his vest again. _Second time’s the charm._ Steve obeys and pulls out the ball cap and sunglasses Thor bought while he was out earlier buying food. It might not be worth much, but they’ll help hide Steve’s recognizable blonde hair and blue eyes. 

Steve works off his vest and cardigan, rolling his shirt sleeves to his elbows and tucking his glasses in his pocket. He puts on the hat and sunglasses, and passes over the grocery bag with a smile. “Thanks,” he takes the money given, “I won’t be too long.” 

“Should I come with you this time?” Thor jokes, but he’s ready to shed his body armor and follow with as many weapons as he can safely hide in his clothing. 

“I think you’ll draw more attention to us,” Steve laughs, “but thanks. I’ll be fine. I’ll keep my head down.” 

“Fifteen minutes,” Thor reminds, and once again Steve walks off. 

Thor sits back and opens the bag to finish what Steve left him, ready to race into the store just in case, his nerves on edge. How can they not be? At least this time there is no small group of mean-looking men to follow Steve into the shop. Is that worse...? Somehow it is, because Thor can’t help but imagine that HYDRA has already found them, and are sneaking into the store some other way that he can’t see. Thor looks at the clock on the dash nervously, but only two minutes have passed. He wants nothing more than to leave his gear behind and stay on Steve’s flank, but he can’t just leave a stolen car full of weapons on the curb. 

Dinner doesn’t keep him busy for very long before the grocery bag is empty and he’s left tapping his fingers on his knees, fighting for that balance between calm and cautious. Thinking of worst-case scenarios isn’t a bad idea, but he can’t let them get the best of his nerves. 

It’s an immense relief when Steve emerges from the store nine minutes later, unharmed and unfollowed, a bag in each hand. Thor starts the engine, and Steve gets into the passenger seat, taking off his hat and switching his sunglasses for his prescription ones. 

“Did you get everything?” Thor asks, tucking the change Steve gives him back into his vest and pulling onto the road. 

“Mostly,” Steve replies. “Everything I could find. It might be enough. Enough to get the radio working at least. If we can’t get through to the frequency you want, there are a few other things I might need, but I’m confident this will work.” 

“And I’m confident you’ll make it work,” Thor says. 

Steve is already taking off the battery cover and picking out the batteries, leaving them in the cup holder. Unhindered by being in a moving car, Steve starts to unscrew the front panel. In seconds, he’s picking at the guts of the machine, exchanging a screw-driver for some pliers and picking out wires. “Yup, this thing is shorted,” he murmurs, more to himself than to make an announcement. Thor stays in the slow lane and looks for a good place to stop and work on their project while Steve takes the radio apart in his lap like he does this all the time. Maybe he does. Is that something you learn in University, how to fix broken hardware in a moving vehicle? 

With minimal parts and time, before Thor has even left the exit toward the park he’s spotted, Steve is sliding in new batteries and putting the cover back on. He turns the dials and holds the earpiece to his ear, smiling when he gets the result he wants. 

“Fixed?” Thor asks, bewildered. 

“Mostly...” Steve agrees. “Few more things to tweak in there but at least it’s not ruined.” 

“Here, we’ll find a place to stop,” Thor offers. It’s getting dark out, and this part of town is usually quiet at night. Thor turns onto a dirt road and follows it around until he reaches the park grounds. There are a few people packing up to leave after a long day out, or a nice evening stroll down the footpath, but for the most part everything is quiet. Thor parks in the shadows with the nose a little farther off the gravel area than it should be so that the foliage gives them some kind of mask from onlookers out on the road. 

Steve spreads his work across the hood and Thor shines his flashlight down onto it, his other hand on his gun and his eyes keeping a close look-out on the surrounding area. It’s a quiet evening, traffic just starting to quiet down a little as the last trickle of people head home from work, or go out to the pubs. 

It’s a long way to bend down for poor Steve, but the does so without complaint and dives into his task with enthusiasm. His fingers are flying, yet they handle even the smallest components with such control and precision that Thor has to continually remind himself to focus on his own task of keeping them safe. He doesn’t know what half the supplies are for, but he’s enjoying just watching Steve work for a few stolen seconds at a time. He’s about to open his mouth to ask how everything is going when he sees headlights broken up by foliage winding around the road toward them. 

“Steve...?” he says. “Put your vest back on.” 

Without question, Steve abandons his work and goes to the car, putting his cardigan back on and sliding his vest over top. He tightens the straps and comes back to tuck his stuff in the pockets without prompting while Thor paces back to grab his rifle. 

“Go,” Thor orders, “down the path.” Somehow, HYDRA has found them already. He has no idea how, especially not since it’s been several minutes since they stopped here, and surely if HYDRA were tailing them, they’d have come out to play by now. Thor glances over his shoulder as he follows Steve into the underbrush, noticing the nose of a grey van as it pulls in – one of SHIELD’s armored undercover vehicles. It drives slowly into the parking area while Thor usher Steve into a run. There are more vehicles to follow, and plenty of men piling out of them. Thor can hear the click of weapons being handled and prepared even as they gain distance. 

Bless Steve’s long legs and big lungs, because though the other man isn’t as fit as Thor is, he can at least keep up well enough. They’re sprinting now, Thor listening for sounds of a pursuit. The men are following, but they’re not running yet. 

Thor catches sight of the gun just ahead, moving before he hears the bang. He throws himself into Steve and knocks them both to the ground before the bullet can be loosed into the tree behind where Steve was standing, at thigh-height. Fast as he can, Thor rolls off and shoots back with his hand-gun. In the darkness, the enemy jumps out – not one man, but three, pulling out guns and knives and descending on them. Thor shoots one in the leg before another man collides with him. Mercilessly, Thor jams his gun under the man’s protective vest and shoots him, the bullet trapped inside his torso and destroying his insides. The other two attack at once, and Thor blocks a knife hit, but isn’t fast enough to dodge the bullet fired over the agent’s shoulder. Pain explodes through his shoulder, and his grip loosens on his gun as he cries out. 

“Thor!” Steve yells. 

“Stay back!” Thor yells in return, tightening his grip on his gun and using it to smack aside the knife before it can stab him again. His arm struggles with the movement, but with the help of adrenaline he’s able to hit hard enough to disarm the man before shooting him between the eyes. The final man limps forward, ready to shoot again. Thor shoots him first, and struggles to his feet as the enemy falls. 

By now, the group advancing from behind has quickened their pace, firing their weapons into the forest. There are no more guarantees on Steve’s life, then. Thor switches his gun to the other hand before he drops it and holds his injured arm close to his body, ignoring the hot blood soaking into his shirt. A hand loops under his arm and pulls, and suddenly Steve is right there at his side, helping him to straighten and steady himself, expression twisted with concern. 

They don’t share a word as they get running again, Steve staying closer than before and looking around just as much as Thor is as they follow the trail toward the other end where it meets the town. There will be some safety there, more cover and more places to hide. _How the fuck did they find us? How the fuck did they know to corner us like that?_

On cue, more enemies emerge and attack from the front, almost taking them by surprise. _Almost_. Determined, Thor steps in front of Steve and shoots wildly, firing shot after shot into men who swarm them until he runs out of bullets. He shoves the gun into its holster and draws his blade instead, ready to defend himself against those who remain. He needs to kill them before the rest catch up from behind. “Stay down!” he orders Steve, not wasting any time checking to make sure the other man obeys. He’ll just have to trust that the student will actually do as he’s told this time, lest he catch a stray bullet. Thor flips the blade in his hand and draws his injured arm off his chest to protect his face from a swinging punch. In the darkness he can make out two men down, and five remaining, another two of which he’s already wounded. They all attack at once, and he fights back, kicking at the closest pair of knees that get too close. His boot breaks bone and the man howls in pain, unable to force himself to stay standing and toppling. 

Another man stabs for his chest, and Thor bats the arm aside with his stronger one, dropping his own blade into his other hand so he can use his good arm to grab the enemy’s wrist and twist so viciously he breaks bone. Two more men throw themselves at him, and another fires a gun into the tangle, unbothered if he hits his allies so long as he strikes down the enemy. The bullet hits Thor’s protective vest, but the next shot won’t; Thor grabs the nearest man and yanks him across his body, blocking the shot. The remaining enemies converge again without a pause. 

One of them throws a punch, and it connects with his injured arm, shooting new pain through it. Thor can’t help but cry out and turn away to protect it, lashing out in rage and stabbing the man in the chest. The blade goes through the agent’s body armor and punctures his lung. It’s not enough to slow the agent down right away though, because him and his remaining friends attack once again, shoving Thor back into a tree. One of them stabs at his throat, and Thor moves just in time to avoid it hit. The knife buries itself into the trunk, and Thor stabs under the arm holding it. He yanks his rifle off his shoulder with his good hand and lets loose a spray of bullets, clipping one man in the leg before another agent kicks the weapon from his hand. Without the other able to grip it, the rifle flies free. 

Another bullet strikes his vest, and the material is weak enough from so many shots that it doesn’t cushion the blow as well. Thor winces, twisting it into a growl of determination and anger as he raises his knife. 

Where is Steve? Steve isn’t behind him, or beside him, or even on the ground then he looks. “Steve!” Thor yells. _HYDRA got him. They got him_. “Fuck!” he curses under his breath, more frantically attacking and defending as the last two men try to overpower him. They’re doing a good job, and he’s bleeding, hurting, so disoriented from just one hit that two enemies are suddenly a lot to handle. One hit, just one. Thor’s been shot lots of times, and it’s never hurt like this, never slowed him down so badly. Not right away, at least. Which means that adrenaline, no matter how magical, isn’t enough. He’s bleeding, and badly. Not to mention his fingers are reluctant to hold onto anything. 

The men in pursuit are getting closer. Thor blocks and punch and side-steps a kick, gritting his teeth against pain and punching with his hurt arm regardless of how badly it protests. His fist connects, but he has to leap back almost immediately to avoid being gutted. A boot smacks his bruised knee, flooring him. Thor rolls before a bullet can take his head off and struggles to regain his footing. Before he can get both feet under him, one of the men lunges and slams him back down with a strong kick to the chest. Gasping, Thor fumbles with his knife, digging in his heels to push himself back and buy just a few seconds to recover. It’s not going to be enough. 

Lights nearly blind him, approaching from the opposite end of the trail. Thor squints and keeps pushing backward, his heart pounding in his chest. Any second now, a bullet is going to bite through his skull, and that will be his last sensation before the end. 

But the HYDRA agents have stopped too, glancing back to see a dark shape crunching down the too-narrow trail at tremendous speed. It doesn’t stop, smashing right into the two men and throwing them back into a broken heap. The car skids to a stop right by Thor, and the door swings open, just a few feet away. “Get in!” Steve yells, and Thor doesn’t hesitate to scramble into the passenger seat as bullets pelt the armored windscreen and door from the approaching swarm of agents. He shuts it behind him, and Steve presses his foot into the pedal, plowing through the herd of HYDRA agents that have just caught up. Bodies go flying, and bullet bounce harmlessly off the car. 

Thor grits his teeth as Steve flies off the path and into the parking lot, taking a hard turn past the parked enemy vehicles and back down the dirt road toward the motorway. 

“I told you to stay put!” Thor checks the mirrors, then looks back at Steve, incredulous and too stunned to think of anything better to say. 

“Seatbelt!” Steve replies, taking another sharp turn into the road. Cars honk at them, but Steve carries on, drenched in sweat and still out of breath from exertion, probably from shock as well. 

Thor tugs his seatbelt across himself, watching behind them as whatever HYDRA agents Steve didn’t run over follow in their own vehicles, the armored van in the lead. Thor straightens up and holds his arm tight against his chest, catching a glimpse of the hot, wet blood dribbling down his skin from his saturated shirt sleeve. “We need to ditch this as soon as we can,” he rasps. “It’ll be rigged.” 

“On it,” Steve agrees, changing lanes and eying up the intersection ahead. Police sirens are already wailing in the distance. 

This time, they’re in a car up to par with their pursuers’, though Thor wonders how long it will take for them to detonate whatever fail-safes are in place. 

“If I find a ditch, can you jump?” Steve swerves through traffic. 

“Good plan,” Thor agrees with a nod, checking behind them. All they need is a little bit of distance, maybe a blind spot. This is going to hurt. Luckily pain is a good friend. 

“Okay,” Steve stares determinately into the road, visibly bracing himself as he drives well beyond the speed limit, doing the best he can to avoid traffic but maintain his pace. This must be terrifying, but he’s doing a good job. His reflexes are incredible, making up for enough of his lack of experience to actually keep them ahead of the enemy. Steve is no experienced driver, but this is a good car, and it’s capable of taking sharp turns without the need of the hand-brake or any sort of drifting techniques. The back end almost flies away as Steve turns the wrong way down an exit, but it holds together as Steve steers around the couple of cars trying to merge onto the motorway. His hand is visibly shaking when it comes off the wheel to readjust. 

Traffic is tighter on the smaller town roads, but quiet enough that Steve can still drive relatively quickly, darting into the other lane to get around cars in his way and taking another sharp turn onto the adjacent street. The van is having a harder time keeping up, slowed down when it’s forced to drive into other cars in its path. Meanwhile, Steve makes it through the pinch point ahead with barely a scratch down one side. Thor looks back and watches the van hurtle toward the two poles, only to rip chunks of siding off and lose velocity. Steve turns again, and this time there’s a ditch and some forest to their left. Thor undoes his seatbelt, undoing Steve’s belt as well. He opens his door. 

This is just the break they need, with the convoy yet to catch up and turn the corner to spot them. Steve gives the car and extra burst of speed and scrambles out of the driver’s seat, throwing himself into Thor’s arms as they both fly out of the car and into the ditch in a heap. The ground is wet and swampy, but at least the thick grass cushions them somewhat. It still hurts a lot, so much so that he has a hard time sitting up once Steve is off him, no matter how urgent it is that they get into the trees before HYDRA drives by. Steve helps him immediately, grabbing his good arm and wrapping it across his shoulders. The younger man hauls them both out of the ditch and into the small patch of forest. Thor limps, his already-bruised and aching leg so much worse after being kicked and fallen on. Steve takes his weight without question, hurrying them into the protection of the shadows before the enemy zooms by. 

They’re safe, for now. Thor does his best not to slump too badly, forcing himself to walk. They need shelter, and he can’t stop before then. 

“Hang on,” Steve murmurs, leading him through the greenery toward the street, and back into town. “God... are you okay?” 

That’s not a question he can answer right away, something he refuses to contemplate even though he already knows the answer deep down. He’s been shot before and kept going for hours, but this is different. 

His silence is an answer in itself, one that Steve interprets with urgency. “Hang on, okay? Uh... we’ll, um... We’ll find some place to rest. I got it. I got this.” 

Steve thinks he’s on his own. Thor straightens a little, reminding himself that his job still stands, and that it’s still up to him to lead them. “Find... find another car. Gotta get far away,” he murmurs, and it doesn’t come out as confidently as he hoped. 

“Shush,” Steve orders right back, so firmly that it takes Thor by surprise. “We’re not going anywhere until we look you over.” 

“I’m fine.” 

“You’re not,” Steve argues, his voice shaky from what just happened, but confidence surging through. “Thor, you’re not. We’re not going anywhere until we stop the bleeding. You might need a hospital.” 

“I’m fine,” Thor growls, trying to sound a little more commanding. He pulls away a little, but his leg wavers and he’s forced to lean back across Steve’s shoulders, somewhat undermining himself. “We can’t go to a hospital,” he says a little quieter. “They’ll find us. And I don’t need one.” All he has to do is get the bullet out, which he should be able to do himself. Get it out, stop the bleeding, and he’ll be good to go. 

Steve doesn’t reply, stoically helping him along and keeping his eyes open as he guides Thor down a road and away from some pedestrians headed their way. Thor supposes he should still be watching too, with HYDRA soon to discover that the vehicle they’re chasing is empty, if they haven’t blown it up already. On top of that, neither of them is dressed to blend in. 

He shouldn’t snap at Steve. Steve saved him, again. He disobeyed orders and saved him, saved them both probably, with quick-thinking and fast-acting. “Did good...” Thor murmurs. “Nice... nice work.” 

“Not every day you get to drive a bullet-proof car with a V8 engine,” Steve chuckles shakily back. 

“Are you okay?” Thor looks over. Steve has cuts on his face and his hands, but he looks... good. Worried and scared and a little beat up, but in good shape. There are no bullets in him, at least. 

“I’m good,” Steve promises, looking back and giving a reassuring smile. “I’m not hurt.” 

“Good, that’s good...” Thor sighs. They have that, at least... 

“Save your breath,” Steve suggests kindly. “I’ve got this, okay?” 

Maybe he does. It’s unfair to drop all this onto Steve’s shoulder though. “We should-” 

“I got this,” Steve hushes him. “Just keep your eyes open, and lean on me, alright? One foot in front of the other.” 

Is this really happening? Thor can’t allow himself to fully believe it. He needs to stay alert, needs to find them some shelter. They need to fix the radio, and get in touch with Fury, and rest a little, and- 

Steve is hailing a taxi, and he’s already salvaged some money from Thor’s vest, handing over a wad of cash once he’s helped Thor inside, speaking to the driver. Taking care of things. Then they’re driving off through town, Steve’s arm still hanging tightly on and steadying him over every bump, the other hand pushing into his wounded shoulder to try to slow the bleeding. This is one of the best-handled disasters he’s ever been privileged to suffer through. Maybe that’s a little soon, and the mission has barely begun given that they haven’t even contacted Fury yet, but he’ll allow himself to feel even slightly at ease. It’s a lot to ask of Steve, but to put it simply, the younger man is saving their asses. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to another episode of Me Trying To Guess What People Find Sexy! (I am the ultimate virgin B) bow before me)
> 
> Warning for sexy times toward the end of the chapter, but it's not too descriptive. Gotta find some way to unwind, ya know? The down-time and a few wins are well-earned. But how long can it last?

Thor struggles up the staircase one step at a time, pale and panting against Steve’s side. The agent is clearly trying his best to stay together and maintain that he’s fine, but he’s been silent since they got in the taxi, save for the small whines of pain he can’t completely stifle. It’s worrisome all on its own that Thor is so quiet and has submitted to Steve’s usurping of leadership. It may have been foolish to assume he knows anything about staying low in a town full of people who want to kill them, but so far they’ve done alright.

They’re damn lucky the taxi driver was so kind, and that he allowed Thor inside armed to the teeth. Right now he should be driving as far as he can, as Steve asked, where he’ll tell the police that he was held at gunpoint. That should protect the taxi driver from HYDRA should they come asking, and if HYDRA do manage to find that man, wherever he drives to, then come all the way back, Steve and Thor should have left their room in this quaint bed-and-breakfast by then.

The old woman who runs it is looking for washcloths while Steve helps Thor up the steps and into their room. Steve told her that his friend hurt his leg playing football, and they need some cloths to wash up the blood and dirt, offering to reimburse her for the supplies. These cloths are going to be ruined by the time he’s done with them; Thor’s shoulder is soaked with blood, his whole arm smeared with it and his black shirt gleaming in the light. The sight of it doesn’t help Steve’s already-singing nerves, but he forces himself to stay calm. He can handle this.

The second they make it into the room, Steve sits Thor on the bed and helps him shed his weapons and body armor, sliding their stuff under the bed and making sure it’s hidden. He completely undoes the straps over Thor’s right arm and works off the vest as carefully as he can. Any movement still hurts Thor a great deal, but the other man is braving through the pain with impressive strength. “Shirt,” Steve murmurs, taking the hem and lifting it up. Thor does his best to help Steve get the garment off him. Now that it’s exposed in all its ugliness, both men stare at the bloody mess of Thor’s shoulder.

There’s no time to waste. Steve drags his eyes away from the horrible wound and undoes Thor’s belt, sliding it off and shoving it under the bed. He gets to his knee and loosens the laces on his companion’s boots.

“God, you’re really bleeding...” Steve takes another look up at the wound. They need to get pressure on it, clean and cover it...  _ He needs a hospital. _

“In my vest...” Thor loosens his jaw enough to speak. “Back pocket...” He shuts his eyes and holds his arm tightly against his body, against the scars littered under tattoos. This isn’t his first rodeo.

But it  _ is _ Steve’s, at least when it comes to bullet wounds. His mother is a nurse and his best friend is an EMT, so he’s heard lots of gruesome stories, and had his own wounds very calmly seen to when he used to get into a lot of fights. He’s read some text books and manuals that were lying around, and he’s a keen learner, but this... This is different. This is real.

And there’s  _ so _ much blood... Fortunately, Steve isn’t bothered by the blood part, but he’s not so sure about everything underneath. He slides off Thor’s boots one at a time and drags the agent’s vest back out from under the bed, rummaging through the pouches until he finds some supplies. It’s not much, but Steve wouldn’t know how to use much more anyway.

Someone knocks on the door. Steve makes sure everything is tucked away and stands up, walking around the bed and around the corner to the door. When he opens it, the old woman is standing there, some folded cloths and towels in her arms. She offers them up with a smile. “There you are,” she says. “And don’t you worry about getting them dirty. I can buy more. Would you like some tea? You look exhausted.”

“I would love some,” Steve takes the stack gratefully. “Thank you so much.”

“Can I get you anything else?” she asks. “Is your friend alright?”

“Actually, do you have any spare pillows?” Steve tries. “Maybe some ice...?” Thor’s limp is a lot worse than when they left the hotel this morning. “And you wouldn’t happen to have any gauze would you?”

“I’ll see what I can find,” she replies, her smile never fading. “Are you sure he’s alright...? There’s a hospital in the next town over...”

“He’ll be okay,” Steve reassures, hoping that really is the truth. “He hates hospitals, and it’s not that serious. I can take care of him. Thank you.”

“Of course,” she agrees, and hurries off to gather more supplies. 

Steve shuts the door and walks around the corner and back to the bed. He pulls the blankets out of the way and folds up one of the towels, making sure it’ll protect the sheets from blood. When he walks back around to face Thor, the other man’s eyes are partially glazed over. “Come on, lie down,” Steve coaxes gently. “Slowly. I’ll help you.” He hooks one hand under Thor’s knees to help him turn around, and rests the other on his back to ease him down – there's no blood back there. The bullet hasn’t come through.

There’s a bullet inside Thor.

Steve bites his lip as he helps Thor lie back on the pillows, making sure the towel is in place under his shoulder and none of the blood will get on this nice woman’s sheets. Gently, he takes Thor’s hand and guides it to his side, laying his injured arm across his belly and folding up a cloth. The moment he presses it into the leaking hole, Thor’s eyes fly wide open and he jerks with a surprised, agonized gasp. “Fuck!”

“Sorry!” Steve jumps, reaffirming the pressure no matter how hard it is to watch Thor’s expression contort with pain he can’t hide, pain he’s causing. “Sorry, I’m sorry...”

“S’alright,” Thor pants. “Keep... keep it up.”

“There’s a bullet in you,” Steve blurts. “I... I don’t think I can get it out... You need a doctor.”

Thor clumsily pats him with one hand. “You’ll do fine,” he smiles drunkenly. The smile quickly evaporates as he opens his mouth in a soundless cry, bucking his hips off the bed and digging his heels into the sheets, his abs clenching.

Someone knocks on the door again. Steve releases the pressure and guides Thor’s hand over the cloth instead, wiping the blood from his own and hurrying to meet the old woman again. She has a tray in her hands and some pillows under her arm. “There you are, dear. Let me know if you need anything else.”

“Thank you so much,” Steve breathes, taking them from her.

“Of course, love. Breakfast is at seven,” she smiles back. “Take care.”

They’re so unbelievably lucky. There’s food on this tray. Steve closes the door with his foot and walks back, spreading out all their supplies. It’s not enough, but it’ll get them to the next checkpoint, which Steve hopes is a hospital. And they’d better hope they don’t get shot at again, because Thor can barely move his arm without losing what little color manages to wander back into his cheeks. Even lying completely still, his skin is concerningly white.

“I guess... I guess I should take a look,” Steve whispers, asking just as much as suggesting, paling himself. He props Thor up with one of the extra pillows.

Gingerly, Thor pulls his hand and the cloth away, and they both stare at the wound again. Blood immediately wells back up, but the flow has at least slowed. It’s bigger than Steve expected, and under all that blood he can just about make out what he thinks is muscle.  _ Oh god... _ He swallows and looks away, dipping a new cloth in the water the woman gave him and wringing it out tightly. This is going to hurt so much. Steve’s having a hard-enough time trying to treat this, so he can’t imagine what it’s like for Thor who actually has to suffer the wound. A wound he took protecting Steve.

“S-sorry,” Steve breathes, dabbing up the blood on Thor’s arm as carefully as he’s able. “This is my fault.”

“How so?” Thor holds perfectly still, breathing in short, deliberate huffs.

“You wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for me,” Steve bites his lip, pausing his work so his shaking hand doesn’t disturb the wound. When he looks down, Thor is staring at him, trust in his eyes despite the pain.

“Perhaps I imagined it, but I seem to recall HYDRA pulling the trigger, not you,” Thor replies.

“They wouldn’t have been shooting at you if I hadn’t been kidnapped,” Steve fights back. “I... kicked the hornet’s nest. They only came after me because I came after them.”

“You didn’t kick the nest for fun,” Thor reasons. “Seems to me you had a good cause for it.” He catches his breath for a second or two. “This is my job,” he explains. “I chose to come here. I knew what could happen. Been shot before.”

“I know, you told me,” Steve’s not satisfied. “I’m still sorry. And I’m sure those other times you  probably had a doctor take care of it.”

“This isn’t my first surgery in a hotel room,” Thor sighs with a tired smile.

“Surgery!” Steve yelps. “I can’t do surgery on you!”

“Just... just like the radio,” Thor reassures confidently. “This is no more delicate.”

“This is nothing like taking apart electronics,” Steve breathes. “You bleed a lot more than that stupid radio.”

“You can do it,” Thor repeats. “I know you can. It’s a lot to ask, but you can. I need you to.”

“O-okay...” Steve puts the cloth back in the bowl and looks over at what they have. Between the supplies they brought and what the old woman gave them, they have the cleaning and dressing supplies to get this stitched and covered. “I’ve... I’ve never done stitches before. I’ve had them, but I...”

“You can do it,” Thor insists. “I’ll tell you what to do.”

_ I can do it. _ Steve squeezes his fists and stands in front of what he’s laid out on the nightstand, but his tremor hasn’t improved when he opens his hands, and his stomach is rolling over. Still, he squeezes his jaw and moves the table a bit closer. Then he sits by Thor’s hips and takes off his boots, setting them off to one side.  _ I can do it. I have to do it. _ He swings his leg over Thor and sits across his hips. This is going to bloody hurt, and he needs his patient to remain still. Besides, the light is better from here.

“Okay,” Steve squares himself to the wound and picks up a cloth and a bottle of antiseptic, tipping a generous amount into the fabric. “This is  gonna sting like hell.”

“W-wait,” Thor stops him with a hand on his thigh. “There’s... In my vest. Pills.”

Pain pills. Steve puts down the cloth, kicking himself for not offering anything for the pain right away. They do have the ibuprofen they bought from the gas station, but he has a feeling Thor doesn’t mean that. “The Oxy?” he whispers. “I... I saw it.”

As if caught in the act, Thor stalls. “I...” He’s shaking too. “I need...”

Ibuprofen won’t do shit. Steve nods, sliding off Thor’s hips and dragging the vest out from under the bed again. The pills are there, but when he twists off the top, there are only two left. Two should be fine, right...? Oxy is a strong drug. This is okay, right? To administer them?

Thor is holding out his hand needily, in too much pain for Steve to stall any longer. He empties the bottle into Thor’s hand, and the agent swallows them dry before Steve can get him a glass of water. Thor gives a shaky and reluctant nod. “O-okay. Okay. I’m ready.”

“Are you sure?” Steve nudges the vest away with his foot and climbs back into Thor’s lap.

Thor nods.

“I’m sorry,” Steve whimpers, and presses the ethanol-soaked cloth into the wound.

In the pause, Thor managed to relax, but his expression quickly contorts with pain again, and he trembles with the severity of it, whimpering through tight lips. Steve holds the cloth, resting his weight onto it to force himself to keep it there while holding Thor down. Thor fights him, squirming under the sting, his hips thrusting into Steve’s.

“Breathe through it,” Steve coaxes. “It’ll be over soon, I promise.” He reminds himself of that, too.

The drugs haven’t taken effect yet, or if they have it isn’t enough, because Thor still looks as present as he was before, and just as locked in the hold of his wound. A moan starts to slip free, but he quickly clamps his lips around it, squeezing it into a whine. It’s a blessing to be able to pull away the cloth and set it aside, giving Thor some respite while Steve tips more ethanol onto a pair of tweezers and dabs the welled blood away. He can already spot something he’s certain is the bullet. 

“You can... you can do it,” Thor pants. “Just... reach in. Get it out.”

“’Just’, huh?” Steve snorts humorlessly. “If it’s so easy, why don’t you do it?”

“You can see better,” Thor reasons. “S-Steven...”

“Just Steve,” Steve corrects instantly, though he’s certain it was just a slip of the tongue. “Yeah...?” He hovers worriedly.

“Can you... Is there... more?” Thor pleads up at him.

“All the good stuff is gone,” Steve frowns apologetically. “There’s ibuprofen, but I don’t know if that’ll help...”

“What about... a drink?” Thor tries hopefully.

“A drink and oxy? I don’t think so,” Steve gently chastises. He has nothing else to give. There’s nothing else he can do to at least temper the pain.

“Ow...” Thor shifts his hips under Steve’s. “Just... just do it, then.”

“Are you sure?”

“No choice.”

“I can wait a little, wait for the pills to work.”

“They won’t,” Thor sighs. “Not much. Not enough.”

God, two Oxy won’t help? Thor’s a big guy, but he’s not so big to render that dose useless. Unless he’s been on it long enough that his body doesn’t respond the way it should.

“You’re shaking,” Thor murmurs, his hand landing on Steve’s. It’s so much thicker and stronger. There’s worry in the agent’s eyes when he looks up at Steve.

“Y-yeah,” Steve stammers. “I just ran over what, like ten people? And zig-zagged through traffic, all while being shot at. Then we jumped in a ditch out of a moving vehicle, and now you’re asking me to dig a bullet out of you. It’s been a long day. And I fell in a river this morning.”

“Productive day,” Thor smiles, proud and sympathetic at once.

“Except we didn’t accomplish the one thing we were trying to do,” Steve points at his vest, where the radio and all his supplies are stuffed in the pockets.

“You saved my life. Not many things more productive than that.” Thor’s fingers are loose on Steve’s wrist, brushing the soft skin there. “Will you ever listen to me?”

“Depends,” Steve swallows, sinking deeper into his position and leaning forward. Anxiety is being overridden by something warmer, and Thor is lightly flushed himself, his damp muscles gleaming under the bedroom light. All of Steve’s imagined scenarios are coming back to him, flooding his brain now that he’s more aware of the fact that Thor is sprawled on his back beneath him, and Steve is spread across him.

It feels like they’re headed toward something, both of them flushed and lost in imaginary worlds before Thor snaps free first, shuddering with pain and draining pale again. His whimper pulls Steve free too, and he leaps back to work, urgent to get this covered so they can eat, and Thor can sleep.

Steve props himself up on one hand and leans his elbows against Thor’s body to brace himself and hold his patient steady. He dabs up a dribble of blood and does his best to detach himself from what he’s doing, imagining resistors and wires instead of muscle and skin. He pushes the tweezers into the opening and grasps the bullet, tugging it out with one strong yank. It breaks free and nearly slips from the tweezers, but he quickly drops it into the cloth. “It’s out!”

It’s not. Well, part of it is, but when they both look down at the cloth, it’s clear that’s not the whole bullet, but a crushed fragment.

“ _ Fuck, _ " Thor moans under his breath and lets his head fall back into the pillows.

Steve couldn’t think of a better way to describe the situation. Solemnly, he plucks a handful of tissues from the box by the bed and transfers the piece of bullet into it, looking back into the wound. They need... He doesn’t know what they need, apart from a hospital, which has all those supplies. An ultrasound, x-rays, anesthetic and antibiotics and maybe even a blood transfusion...

“There’s a knife...” Thor shivers. “A small one. Front pocket...”

“No,” Steve pleads. “I can’t cut you open. I can’t. I don’t know what I’m doing. You’ve lost enough blood already, and what if I hit an artery? Who knows how many bits of bullet are in you, or how  deep. You need a hospital. We need... we need to get you to SHIELD.” If a hospital isn’t safe, then they need to bring Thor where he’ll be protected, to his own people. They can help.

To his relief, Thor slumps and whispers a soundless agreement.

Somewhat relieved that he won’t have to do any stitches, Steve slumps too and carefully climbs off Thor’s hips. They’re better off leaving the wound open until they can get somewhere that can remove the rest of that bullet, and clean everything properly. For now, Steve will do his best to cover it. If they’re extra cautious, they might just make it to SHIELD without another fight breaking out. Can Thor fight at all? That’s not something Steve wants to test.

“Here, sit up,” Steve holds out his hands to help, placing one on the solid muscle of Thor’s back and pushing him up. “Hold this,” he pushes a handful of gauze over the newly-bleeding wound, and Thor’s hand over that while he gets the bandages ready. Doing his best to be gentle, Steve wraps them snug and uses the whole roll, hoping that will be enough to hold the rest of Thor’s blood inside his body. He hopes this will do until they can get to SHIELD.

The moment the end is taped down, Thor cradles his arm to his chest and starts to turn. Steve spots the contraction of muscles before the agent makes it very far, and stops him.

“No,” he orders. “Lie down.”

Thor frowns, resisting Steve’s hand. “But-”

“No,” Steve pushes harder on Thor’s good shoulder. “Rest. You’re the only one who can use a gun. I need you. To be honest, you look like you’d fall over anyway.”

A mixture of relieved but reluctant, Thor lies back, stabilizing his arm until he’s safely resting on the pillows. Steve draws up the blankets, shooting a warning stare before Thor can get any more words out of his open mouth.

The worst is dealt with as well as they can with what they have. Steve’s legs feel suddenly weak as he wipes Thor’s blood off his hands and cleans up a little. The bullet fragment goes in the trash, and he washes as much blood from under his finger nails as he can in the bathroom sink. When he emerges, Thor is obediently still resting, pain still very visible in his strong features. He looks ill and dizzy, very pale and tired but following Steve around the room with his eyes as his protégé pours tea from a pot into two mugs.

Steve adds a little cream and makes sure the pillows are high enough before securing one mug into Thor’s hand. The agent’s grip is stable enough, so Steve lets go and has a sip from his own, the hot liquid soothing his nerves. There are biscuits and some sandwiches there as well, but they aren’t done; Steve folds the blankets off Thor’s legs and rolls up the trouser leg on the side the agent was favoring. Thor is covered in cuts and bruises from constant fighting and falling and being bashed around, but it’s immediately evident that his knee is in particularly bad shape. The joint is swollen, and there’s deep bruising all down the side of Thor’s leg, the same as what Steve caught a glimpse of back at the hotel, with new colors layered over. The skin is marked with scars from an old injury, possibly several.

“I think it’s sprained...” Thor murmurs, a light flush seeping into his cheeks. He drinks from his mug, holding it close to his face as if to hide behind it.

“It’s definitely fucked up,” Steve agrees as he reminds himself what to do. This at least is familiar territory. How many times has he tripped and fallen and twisted something, or swung a punch and hurt his wrist?  _ I-C-E: ice, compress, elevate. _ He tucks the remaining pillow under the joint and flashes Thor a small, teasing smile. “After all the hassle you gave me for jumping out of a tree.”

Thor holds his mug a little higher. “Not my fault,” he mutters. “It’s been fucked up for ages.”

“Are the pills doing anything?” Steve raises his eyebrows in sympathy.

Thor pauses for a moment to think before giving his weary reply. “No,” he sighs. “Not really.”

“Sorry... made you think about it. Should be trying to distract you,” Steve apologizes bashfully and pushes Thor’s pant leg up a bit higher, sliding his hand up the inside of the other man’s thigh. Even relaxed, the muscles are firm. He pushes that pant leg up a little higher than is probably necessary.

“Distracting me just fine,” Thor says, a faint smile on his lips and a look in his eyes that makes Steve blush. 

He quickly looks away and busies himself with the roll of bandages, scooping up Thor’s leg to wrap his knee. Maybe he’s overthinking this, but Thor is watching him, the empty mug loose in his hand, his gruff exterior softened by weariness but his eyes fixed forward. Steve bites his lip and finishes with the bandage, draping the full bag of frozen peas the old woman gave him over the joint and pulling the blankets back down.

“Is that everything?” Steve asks, separating their dinner between two plates and exchanging one for Thor’s empty mug. “Did I miss anything?”

“No,” Thor replies, shifting in bed as if to make certain, while holding his shoulder protectively. Curious and eager, he takes the plate and starts to eat without much inspection.  “No, that’s all.” 

Thank god. Some of the tension helping hold him together breaks down, and the shaking intensifies now that he doesn’t need to be so focused anymore. This is the end of his hands-on surgery lessons, at least for today. Steve pulls a chair up to the bed and more falls than sits, reaching down for his vest. “We really need to get a hold of your friends...” he murmurs as he sets down the radio amidst his tools and supplies. It’s immediately evident that the radio is broken. Steve’s heart thumps in his chest at the sight of the dented casing and loose battery cover, the batteries themselves dislodged. One of the dials is smashed off, and Steve can see from here that the internal components are damaged. He must have fallen on it during the fight, or their escape.

It looks salvageable. Steve bites his lip with anticipation, not ready to deem the device a write-off, nor proclaim brashly that he can salvage it. Possible outcomes for what he’ll find under the destroyed backing run his thoughts into another world, sucking him into his work and blocking out everything else while he unscrews the plates as fast as he can with anxiously-shaking fingers. After a couple of slips, he finally exposes the hardware, tracking everything he can see inside.

“Is there nothing you can’t do?” Thor’s hoarse and quiet voice draws him from his narrowed focus, and when he looks over, his protector is gazing at him with admiration. Determined but still in a great deal of pain, Thor shoves himself up a little higher so he can see better.

Steve flushes and looks away. “Plenty,” he replies shyly. “Lots of things I’m not so good at.” He fiddles self-consciously with the screwdriver, spinning it a couple of times in his fingers before setting it down and lifting out some wires in his way, hands shaking for an entirely different reason.

“Like what?” Thor blinks, caught between staring at Steve work and Steve himself. The admiration is impossible to process, leaving Steve on the verge of squirming in his seat.

“Like... There just are,” Steve shakes his head, treating himself to just one self-indulgent glance at Thor’s reverent gaze. Fuck, he looks so much softer with his short hair mussed on the pillow, and his eyes a little glazed from weakness. He’s not so weak to be drunkenly rambling, though. He hasn’t lost so much blood to be incoherent, which means that he’s speaking from a place of relative sanity. These aren’t the drabbles of a wounded man. Steve digs deeper into the radio. “If I could do everything, I wouldn’t need you, would I? I’d be dead without you, or at least ten toes lighter.”

“That’s fair,” Thor smiles. “But you can fix things, perform first-aid, think quickly in a crisis, and stay calm in a situation like this. Makes me wonder what other secret talents you have hiding up your sleeves.”

Steve blushes deeper, staring more intently into the gutted radio, digging out another piece with increased determination.  _ Complements and flirting are different, Rogers. _ He does his best not to feel so flustered, but words are already falling out of his mouth. “Not much,” he shrugs before he can stop himself from being too self-deprecating and playing it cool. “Tony’s a lot better at this stuff than me. You should see him. Lots more things he can do that I can’t. Then again, we’re both hopeless when it comes to the dating side of things... I guess that’s one of many things on the list of things I’m not good at.” The urge to reveal romantic information is growing inside him like a forest fire, consuming all other conversation topics. He needs Thor to know how single he is, that he’s into men, just in case Thor is single and likes men too. The need burns away his common sense like it never has before. Steve’s never met a man like Thor, a man he’s so desperately attracted to. Then again, he’s never been kidnapped, hunted, and shot at either. Has he snapped? Has the trauma ruined him?

“ So no girlfriend waiting for you back home?” Thor asks, gentle and hopeful, though Steve wonders if that second one is a conjuring of his imagination.

“Nope,” he shakes his head, leaping on the opening to naturally slip in more information about himself. “I mean, there wouldn’t be anyway. Not that into girls for the most part.”

“You’re gay.” Steve tries not to analyze Thor’s response, but the other man definitely sounds... pleased?

“More or less,” Steve shrugs. “You didn’t guess? According to those HYDRA guys my cardigan gives me away.” He chuckles dryly.

“And single...?” Thor definitely sounds some sort of pleased now, and his eyebrows are furrowed with mild surprise when Steve looks over. He looks away again, his face and neck burning so hot he’s sure he’ll pass out and land face-first in his neatly-dissected radio. Thor goes on and makes things worse: “A handsome, clever man like you is single?”

“Like I said,” Steve swallows shakily.  _ He thinks I’m handsome. _ “Not so good with all that...” It’s a combination of things, some deathly mix of shyness and incompetence. Does that sound  _ too _ self-deprecating? Steve scrambles. “I mean... I’m pretty busy anyway, so it’s not like I’m trying to hook up with people or anything. But I’m not  _ not _ looking, you know...”  _ Fuck. _ He nervously arranges some wires he’s already laid out.

Thor chuckles. “I apologize,” he says. “I was merely curious. Your personal life isn’t my business.”

“I don’t mind,” Steve rushes. “I didn’t mean to make it sound so complicated...”

“I see what you mean,” Thor is smiling, amused. “About this being a struggle of yours.”

“What about you?” Steve asks, setting the radio in his lap and turning to face his companion so they can converse more easily. “You got somebody? You don’t have to answer that...”

“It’s alright. Fair’s fair,” Thor replies good-naturedly, despite the turmoil in his eyes as he contemplates his answer. “No, I don’t. It’s been a while since I pursued a relationship... In this line of  work you can’t guarantee you’ll come home in one piece, or come home at all. That’s a lot to ask of someone.”

“That sounds lonely,” Steve frowns sympathetically.  _ He’s single.  _ “Why do you do it? Your job, I mean.”

That one gives Thor pause. The agent’s eyes land back on the radio in Steve’s hands. At last, he sighs in defeat. “It worked out that way,” he murmurs, but that isn’t the whole story, evidently. “This is what I’m good at.”

Steve opens his mouth to agree and return some of the flattery that’s been given to him, but he spots something inside the radio that doesn’t belong and frowns at it, losing his train of thought. Hidden among the workings of the radio is a small black transistor welded into the circuit board. It’s clearly not part of original design. Steve holds the circuit board between his leg and wedges the screw-driver under the transistor, smacking the end until the little black chip breaks free.

“A tracker,” Thor says urgently, already starting to sit. “We need to go-”

Steve reaches over and shoves him down again. “We’re fine,” he replies. “It’s not connected to the battery. Hasn’t been since we drove away. It’s not getting power. But just to be sure-” he  drops it on the floor and crushes it under his boot, holding up the destroyed piece of hardware for Thor to see.

Satisfied, Thor relaxes again and eats his last biscuit. “That must be how HYDRA was finding us so quickly.”

“I hope so,” Steve agrees. “Means we solved the problem.” Come to think of it, HYDRA jumped on them soon after he put new batteries in the radio, and again when he got it working on the hood of the car. They’ll be safe here for a little while, until they get hold of SHIELD and Thor gets some rest. They can’t go anywhere until they know where to go.

“They may still find us,” Thor says. “We aren’t in the clear.”

“No,” Steve agrees, pushing a couple of wires into the little bread-board he bought. “But we’ll be okay for a while. I’ll keep a look-out. Just rest, okay?”

“Seems I don’t have a choice.”

“Nope,” Steve agrees, adding some resistors and stolen radio components to his circuit. The plastic cover on the frequency dial is broken, but the metal pin it rested on still works. Steve sets the volume too and connects the speaker to the system. His circuit is starting to get complicated, so he moves it from his lap back to the desk to lay everything out. A good work station makes a world of difference.

Thor has gone quiet, watching as well as he can from his vantage point.

The set-up is relatively simple. Steve adds another receiver into the circuit and connects the batteries, turning the dials. A wide smile curls his lips when static comes through the speaker. “Got it,” he announces. “Okay. Now we just have to find the right frequency.” That might be harder without the numbers around the first dial to guide them, but they’ll get there. Steve is good at this sort of thing, finding needles in haystacks.

“I can set the first one,” Thor offers, but this time makes no effort to move other than to lift his good hand.

Steve takes the empty plate from Thor’s lap and delicately moves his bread-board and connected pieces onto the tea tray. With the whole system transferred, he puts the tray in Thor’s lap and nudges the first dial. “Do you best,” he invites.

Thor takes the dial and turns it to zero before slowly working it around, listening closely to the static and mouthing numbers. “Okay,” he stops turning and looks up at Steve expectantly. “That should be it.”

Those eyes... Steve takes the tray and mumbles a thank-you, quickly looking away and turning the second dial. In a way, these are tougher conditions to work under than in the stress of a lab in the early days when he was still trying to prove to his supervisors that his project was worth pursuing. Now all he has to do is find the right secondary wave to pair with the first so that they combine to create a unique wave pattern. That pattern will be picked up by SHIELD, or so he hopes.

The first wave is easy, but the second has a variable frequency and amplitude, which doubles the possible combinations. Steve looks over at Thor. “Do you remember any other numbers?” he asks. “A code of some kind?”

Thor winces and rubs his head. “I think so...”

Upon quick inspection, Steve spots a pen and reaches for it, taking off the cap and holding it out. “Here,” he offers, laying his hand palm-up in Thor’s lap. “Write it down.”

Thor takes the pen and rests it on Steve’s skin, thinking for a moment before writing slow and shaky numbers with his left hand. Clearly, he’s right-handed, but his injured arm stays right where it is. When Thor is finished, the numbers are wobbly but legible, and he’s written two codes. Steve caps the pen and inspects his palm. The first number is longer, with two decimal points among the digits, while the second is only two digits long. That must be how the first number breaks into two parts, one  part for frequency, the other for amplitude.

Upon inspection, it appears the first number makes far more sense to be frequency, given the range this transmission would feasibly need to cover. Steve turns the dials to create the second wave and checks the other parts of his circuit to ensure both waves will be merged into one unique signal. Then he hands over the mic to Thor and gives the agent a nod.

Slightly livened, Thor sits up a bit and holds the receiver close to his mouth. “SHIELD. This is Thor, do you copy?” He looks up at Steve as he waits, both men listening intently to the speaker. They both light up when a voice comes through.

“Thor, this is Director Fury, copy.”

“Fury,” Thor breathes a sigh of relief, but doesn’t waste a moment. “I have Steven Rogers, but HYDRA is on our tail. We need to get somewhere safe. Where are you?”

“The base is compromised,” Fury replies. “I’m here at a safe-house in Sheffield. Can you get here?”

“Yes, sir,” Thor confirms.

“Good. I’ll meet you at the botanical gardens and take you from there,” Fury says. “If everyone alright? Is Rogers there?”

Steve and Thor make brief eye contact before Steve answers. “I’m here,” he agrees. “We won’t be able to radio in once we leave. I don’t know how long it’ll take us to get there.” They’ll have to find another car, and who knows what the traffic will be like... Plus Thor can’t drive.

“I’ll wait, that’s fine,” Fury confirms. “Just be careful, and take as long as you need. I’d rather you be late than bring a tail with you.”

“Will do,” Thor agrees. “I’m glad you’re alive, sir.”

“Likewise,” Fury replies. “Stay safe, both of you.”

Just like that, the transmission is over. Steve turns down the volume and meets Thor’s gaze, enjoying the hopefulness lingering between them. 

“Nice work,” Thor smiles.

After so many disasters back-to-back, it feels good for something to finally go right. Steve sags in his chair and puts the tray back on the bedside table. “Yeah,” he agrees. “Both of us.”

Thor doesn’t deny it, at least, propping himself up. “I suppose we should go-”

“For the last time,” Steve is on his feet again, shoving his stubborn companion down. “ _ No. _ We can spare to stay the night. You need the rest. And there’s breakfast tomorrow. You wouldn’t want to let that nice old lady down, would you?” He pulls the blankets up a bit higher and firmly tucks in the edges to make his point. 

“Breakfast does sound nice...” Thor agrees wearily, sleep trying to draw his eyelids shut, but his eyes still swirling with intense pain. The agent shifts like he can’t get comfortable, though his skin still glows white under the light and any form of exertion drains him further.

“Try to sleep,” Steve coaxes. “I’ll stay with you.”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Thor growls, but it quickly loses potency.

“No, you need a distraction,” Steve argues, undaunted. “Did the pills not help...?”

“No,” Thor grumbles, gathering a handful of duvet and squeezing it until his hand strains.

If Oxy isn’t enough, then ibuprofen definitely won’t be. Steve tugs the chair as close as he can and pries Thor’s fingers away, quickly sliding his own into the agent’s grip and wrapping other hand over top. Nothing beats a hand for squeezing.

“What are you doing,” Thor demands, but he doesn’t try to pull away.

“What do you expect me to do?” Steve calmly replies. “Nothing?”

“Not nothing.” Thor grits his teeth, the impressive muscles in his arm swelling as he flexes them and tightly squeezes Steve’s hand. “S-sorry.” It takes visible effort to make his fingers release.

Steve holds the hand tighter and shakes his head. “It’s okay.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I don’t have to do anything,” Steve replies. “But I want to. We’re a team, right?” Now more than ever. Neither of them can get through this without the other. “I want to. Unless you don’t want me to, then that’s different.”

“No, no,” Thor swallows nervously. “I want... I’d like that.”

“Okay,” Steve stands and pushes the chair back with his foot, imbued with confidence that he’ll later blame on residual adrenaline. He swings his leg back over Thor and settles slowly on his hips. “How about this?”

“Yes,” Thor breathes. “This... this is not a ploy to keep me in bed, is it?”

“I figured you’d listen to me about that by now,” Steve snorts and smiles, gathering Thor’s hand to his chest. “But I’ll hold you down if I have to.”

Steve knows exactly how to ease those pained lines etched into Thor’s face, but that crosses from practical solution into a fantasy, so he keeps it to himself. This position alone is rather bold, but Thor is looking pinker than before, and he’s stopped squirming so much. There are scars all over him, which are particularly visible in this light and this proximity. Thor is trying very hard not to show how much pain he’s in, but he has nothing to prove. Steve is drawing around the toughened knuckles in his captivity before he knows it, bringing them to his lips. He stops himself and hurriedly looks down at Thor, but the other man is truly captivated, shifting his hips for another reason altogether, a reason Steve can feel.

That’s all the confirmation Steve needs to wrap his lips around the bruised knuckle, enjoying the rough skin on the softness of his mouth. “I know how to make you feel better,” he says quietly, trying not to sound so hungry.

“Y-you do?” Thor’s eyebrows lift, and his hips shift again.

Steve smiles, kissing the knuckle. “If you want.”

The hand moves in his grip, sliding free and clutching a handful of shirt. With one smooth tug, Thor pulls Steve down and kisses him. Willingly, eagerly, Steve goes down, propping himself off Thor’s injured arm with one hand, and grabbing handfuls of the agent’s cropped hair with the other. Even suffering from serious injury, Thor is still strong, lifting his head off the pillow to push deeper into Steve’s mouth. Steve fights it a little, but only to feel the strength of the Thor’s pursuit. 

It’s good.  _ So _ good. After one attack after another, it’s the unwinding he needs. Not to mention, it’s been a while, and he’s never kissed anyone who kisses like Thor does, never kissed anyone this powerful and fierce.

They part only to breathe. “Is this what you had in mind?” Thor pants, staring up through Steve’s flopped bangs and falling glasses, both of them flushed and consumed in the moment.

“ Sorta ,” Steve heaves, raking back his forelock. “I uh... was  gonna offer something else, but this is good too. Great, actually.”

Thor neatly takes Steve’s glasses by the bridge and folds them, reaching for the table with a wince. Steve quickly intervenes, prying out his hearing-aid and putting that aside as well. Thor is already going up to pull off Steve’s cardigan one shoulder at a time, working the buttons of the shirt beneath no matter how unsteady his fingers are from combined pain and eagerness. “Are you certain?” the agent looks up, his eyebrows furrowed. “You are worth more than this.”

“More than what?” Steve hurriedly shakes off his cardigan and throws it on the floor, helping Thor undo the buttons of his shirt. “More than a one-night-stand, you mean?”

Thor nods, biting his lower lip with desire. “I can’t guarantee anything. I don’t want to hurt you. What if all I can give you is this? You know what I am.”

“You’re not a ‘what’,” Steve shakes his head, his shirt promptly joining his cardigan on the floor.

“But I cannot ask this of you,” Thor persists. “You and I... Our worlds are very different. You know what I do. If this does not end when the mission does, I can never guarantee I’ll come home alive. That’s a lot to ask.”

“Is that what you want?” Steve presses, despite how foolish he knows it is: Thor’s right about them being different, that nothing would be normal, their home countries aside. There are so many variables he can’t consider in the moment, not fully, though some of them flash behind his eyes like warnings. He doesn’t care. He wants this, even if he regrets it later.

Thor wants it too. “I can make you no promises,” he insists, on the verge of pleading. “Steve, you deserve more. You have a life, one that I do not want to destroy-”

“You won’t,” Steve insists. “One night won’t destroy it, at least. Let me make you feel better. Please.  _ You _ deserve that.”

“You owe me nothing.”

“I know. But I want to do this. I want to take care of you. The better you rest, the better off we’ll be tomorrow, right?” Steve tries a smile. “But only if you want it-”

“I do,” Thor starts. “Very much so. As long as I am not taking advantage of you-”

“I offered,” Steve insists, lifting up only so he can throw the blankets out of the way and work on Thor’s pants. “ So don’t worry about it. As long as you want it, that’s all that matters. Just lie back, and let me take care of it.” A good going-over isn’t exactly an IV delivering a constant stream of painkillers, but it can dull everything for a little while, maybe long enough for Thor to fall asleep.

“You’re so bruised...” Thor’s hand reaches up, brushing down the smooth, pale skin of Steve’s chest. There are bruises and scrapes all over him, especially on his arms and hips, but there’s a nasty one forming on his upper abdomen, caused by a bullet his vest took before he got into the armored car. The agent catalogues each mark with concern. “Are you certain this is alright...?”

“Just a few bruises,” Steve reassures, adding Thor’s pants to the growing pile of discarded clothes, his underwear only a few seconds behind, and the half-melted bag of peas landing on top. “Nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”

Thor explores the groove of a rib, then brushes down the curve of Steve’s unblemished waist, finally working around and taking a handful of  ass . With a strong hoist, Thor lifts him forward, and Steve flops down for another kiss, Thor’s hand dragging up his spine and cupping the back of his head, trapping him there. “I suppose I can only fight you so long,” he rasps into Steve’s mouth. “What will you do to me?”

“Whatever you like,” Steve smiles when he gets the chance. “I’ll figure out what you like.”

“Is this another of your hidden talents?”

“Maybe,” Steve smirks. “But it’s never been enough to keep a partner before, so maybe not.”

“Then they do not know what they’re missing,” Thor drags his teeth off Steve’s lower lip before promptly capturing it again and going straight back in for another powerful kiss. How he can speak and probe like that with his tongue so seamlessly is an engineering miracle. “How anyone could turn you down perplexes me.”

“I haven’t even done anything yet,” Steve smiles wider. “And what if I’ve got some secret talents that aren’t so favorable? Some people say I’m too stubborn for my own good.”

“That is a matter of opinion. Some would say your stubbornness is an invaluable asset.” Thor’s smile is sly and seductive and Steve can barely hold himself together.

“Not a pain in the ass?” he argues playfully, working handfuls of Thor’s hair with a frustrated hand.

“If you had not saved me several times over, then yes, it would be,” Thor slides his hand back down Steve’s back and under the waistband of his jeans, eagerly taking a handful of muscle.

“No,” Steve reaches back and takes Thor’s wrist. “No, let me. Just relax.” Possessively, he pushes Thor’s hand up by his head, and it’s only because Thor lets him that he’s able to fight the stronger man; even though Thor is injured, Steve has no doubt he would lose the wrestling match against the agent. As it is, Thor happily allows himself to be man-handled, reluctantly relinquishing Steve’s lips but shivering in pleasure as Steve moves down his body.

They aren’t finished until Thor is a quivering wreck, a promise Steve tells himself in that moment. He’s going to make the world white for as long as he can, as many times as he can. 

As a programmer, he’s an excellent multi-tasker, which means he can keep his fingers on a nipple while tending to other places. He moves his lips down the long scar on Thor’s ribs and the nearby tattoo, searching for sensitive places. He lets go of the nipple to grasp Thor by the waist on both sides, kissing down the groove of his abs, all the way to his belly-button. That patch of skin all around Thor’s middle, just above his hips, is particularly sensitive, and Thor gives a satisfying shudder when Steve nibbles at his waist. 

There are many miles of Thor to explore. Steve rubs Thor’s waist with his fingers and sucks on the bump of his hips bone. He follows the bone around and down, down, down Thor’s belly. Desperate to drag this out as long as possible, Steve lands a kiss and moves back up, and Thor squirms in frustration, clearly ready for whatever is in store for him without much need for Steve’s interference. And boy, Thor is big.

“S-Steve-” Thor starts to sit, but Steve crawls up his body and shoves him down, shutting him up with a kiss.

“Shush,” he orders, and the larger, stronger man submits, letting Steve inside his mouth to take control this time.

Just a little more, and he’ll start on the important bits. Too soon, and Thor will be finished before they’ve passed much time. Steve wants this to be phenomenal. He wants to enjoy this for himself while they have the chance, and he wants to numb Thor’s pain for as long as possible. And Steve  _ is _ stubborn, though just as attentive. He knows full well what to do with his fingers, slithering back down and working Thor a little, finding the right way to touch and squeeze. This is just the test, the prep for when his mouth takes the place of his hands. Steve leaves a small pause in between, and when he finally dives in, Thor makes the most wonderful sound of surprise mixed with pleasure. Using his tongue and his teeth and his lips to do the work now, Steve torments with the movements his hand learned.

Thor’s thighs squeeze around his ribs, but the muscles go loose again as Steve works him into bliss, teasing but edging the other man closer and closer to release. He climbs Thor up that hill, shivering with his own pleasure at Thor’s moans. Even better when Thor gasps a little with surprise when Steve works him into a lull only to suddenly change his pattern with increased vigor.

Steve works Thor to orgasm, and they both feel the release all over, Thor’s bliss traveling through their connection like a wave. The sound he makes is beautiful and satisfying, and Steve smiles as he makes sure to drag that release for as long as he can before taking his mouth away. He crawls up Thor’s heaving body, admiring the muscles clenching in a new way. Before Thor has the slightest chance of catching his breath, his eyes still glazed with pleasure, Steve is in his mouth, kissing him to ease him back into the real world. As Thor regains himself, Steve builds intensity, greedily stealing away the breath that Thor recovers.  _ Steve _ is in charge, and he wants Thor to know it, wants the agent to fully surrender.

Just in case, Steve quickly glances at Thor’s bandaged shoulder while the other man is still held in the clutches of his release – the bandages are still dry. Good, his plan is working, and the wound need not be mentioned. Steve hopes Thor has forgotten about it, at least enough that it’s not bothering him so much. Giving no time to recover, lest Thor’s mind drifts away from this, Steve sucks on Thor’s Adam’s apple, leaving Thor’s mouth free to moan unrestricted. Victorious, Steve starts to work his way back down Thor’s monumental figure one muscle group at a time. He can keep this up until Thor is spent. This is working quite well, and though Steve would have been very happy to engage in full-blown sex, at least this way Thor doesn’t have to move and risk hurting himself. As much as sex would be nice, Thor needs his blood to stay in his body.

Untiring, Steve sees Thor through a staggering three more orgasms. By then, the other man is completely worn out, and without needing a single word, Steve knows the limit has been reached. He eases Thor out of his pleasured haze more gently this time, letting him catch his breath properly and marking the end with a tender kiss. 

Neither of them speaks while Steve goes to get some water and a clean cloth. He cleans up the last few dried flakes of blood, along with any sweat and grime accumulated from their recent fight and what just went down between them. Steve wipes with rhythmic sweeps and dabs carefully over bruises and scrapes, washes back Thor’s hair, and rubs soothing circles into his chest. Exhausted and pleasured to the point of drowsiness, Thor nods off, and Steve doesn’t stop until his companion is totally asleep.

A job well done, Steve smiles and cleans himself up a little before taking off his pants too. He makes sure Thor is still comfortably arranged, gets him back into his underwear, replaces the cold peas over his knee, and shuts off the bedroom light. Then Steve takes the blanket and drags it over both of them as he crawls into bed. He wraps Thor’s good arm around himself and gets in close, careful of both their bruises. Finally, he reaches for the lamp and switches that off too, plunging them both into darkness.

One final touch: Steve can’t help himself, brushing back Thor’s forelock one last time and lingering his hand, pleased to find the skin is only a little warm. He smiles and kisses Thor’s lightly-parted, kiss-swollen lips before resting his head on Thor’s strong shoulder and closing his eyes. Is it foolish for both of them to sleep at once? Maybe. But they both could use the rest, and Steve has no plans on waking Thor to switch shifts, nor is it wise to think he can function well enough without any rest before tomorrow. Yes, this will be fine. Just for a few hours.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve is going to come away from this with more skills than he started.
> 
> Thank you as always for the feedback!

The old woman is kind enough to lend Steve her phone so he can rent a car online. With Thor’s help and his UK driver’s license, the car is set to be brought to the front of the B&B at 8:30am – that leaves plenty of time for breakfast and to get ready. Steve goes down to return the phone and collect breakfast, returning up to their room. This will be the first hot meal either of them has eaten since this mission started, and both of them are protein-deprived.

Thor is stretching and yawning as he frees himself from the blankets Steve tucked around him when he left. It’s not as much as Steve would have liked, but Thor has improved for a good night’s sleep, his pallor less pronounced. His shoulder is badly bruised though, the bandages clean but violent color crawling down his arm and up his neck from beneath. There’s still most of a bullet exploded inside his shoulder.

They’ll be at SHIELD soon, and they can take care of Thor from there.  _ Soon, _ Steve reassures himself. There are still lots of things to do before then, including eat.

“How did you sleep?” Steve asks, somewhat self-servingly. He divides up the food and puts Thor’s plate on the tray, then in his lap.

“Very well,” Thor smiles, picking up his fork.

“Here, you want some butter?” Steve grabs Thor’s scone and slices it in half, steam rising out of the freshly-baked pastry. The butter melts straight in.

“Jam as well, please.”

“Is that everything, Your Highness?” Steve lifts his eyebrows, happily spreading some jam onto the scone and sliding it back onto Thor’s plate, lifting out of his seat for a kiss.

“You read my mind,” Thor smiles. “I would ask for more if we weren’t on a schedule.”

“You know the ‘it’s five o’clock somewhere’ rule doesn’t apply to sex, right?” Steve busies himself buttering his own scone.

“That’s because you can have sex any time of day,” Thor reasons, “and no-one frowns upon it.”

“Yeah, well you don’t have a school schedule,” Steve laughs, pausing his scone to pour tea into two mugs. “I imagine it’d be hard to focus if you’ve just had your brains fucked out.”

“It may help your focus,” Thor argues. “Like a morning work-out.” He sips his tea matter-of-factly.

“If you say so,” Steve chuckles, wishing more than anything they could stay here and test that theory.

Their pleasant breakfast spent in the lingering warmth of last night’s endeavors quickly sinks the moment Thor has to get out of bed, and the pain is reinvigorated no matter how much help Steve gives him. In moments, he’s white and shaking again, sitting on the edge of the bed clutching his arm while Steve gets his clothes. And there are no more pills left, none potent enough to combat what Thor is suffering through anyway.

_ Not long. Soon we’ll be with SHIELD, and Thor can get help. _ Steve is at least thankful that he himself feels much steadier than yesterday, renewed from a good night’s sleep and some detachment from horrors behind it. Today, Thor offers no opposition when Steve gets him dressed every step of the way, from lacing his boots, to doing up his vest straps. Some of the pockets in the front need to be emptied so Thor can hold his arm flat against his chest. As Steve moves a few things around, he finds a blade and draws it, tugging on the bottom of his cardigan to tighten the fabric so he can run the blade down the edge and seamlessly slice off the buttons. Without a second thought, he’s shrugging it off and cutting it down the middle before Thor can stop him.

“Steve-!” he starts.

“I can get another one,” Steve calmly insists, stepping between Thor’s legs and sheathing the blade back where it belongs. “Here, hold that there.” He presses Thor’s fist into the opposite shoulder and ties the first length of cardigan into a sling. The second piece he wraps around Thor’s back to keep his arm firmly pressed into his chest. That should do it, god willing they don’t get into another fight. “Okay. How’s that?”

“Good.”

“Good.” Steve smiles and starts to move away so he can get his own vest on. “How’s your leg?”

“Steve,” Thor grabs his wrist and stops him. “Before we go...” He draws the hand-gun off his hip. “Sit.”

Steve obeys, staring at the weapon with alarm. “Thor... you said... I don’t think I can-”

“Not to use,” Thor hurries. “Just in case I need you to reload for me.” He can barely shift his arm in the sling, and his fingers struggle to move freely.

“O-okay...” Steve takes the gun cautiously when Thor offers it handle-first, keeping well away from the trigger.

“Don’t be so nervous. The safety is on,” Thor points to a lever on the top where the thumb would rest. “This here-” he runs his finger across a little nob by the trigger. “That releases the magazine.”

Steve holds the gun more firmly, still avoiding the trigger, and presses the release. The magazine drops into his lap. He looks up for approval.

“Good,” Thor pats a pocket on his vest. “Magazines are here. Take one out and push it in until it clicks.” He turns a little so Steve has easy access to the pocket. Still nervous, Steve holds the gun by the barrel and pushes the magazine into the handle. “Good. Now take it out again, and put it back in. Faster this time. You won’t hurt anyone.”

Steve drops out the second magazine into his palm, before shoving it more confidently back into the weapon.

“Okay. Put that one back,” Thor orders, “and thumb the safety off.”

Pleased he hasn’t been to do that with the gun loaded, Steve tucks the magazine away and thumbs back the hammer. It makes an ominous clicking sound that he doesn’t like.

Thor takes the gun by the barrel and flips it in his hand, tucking it back into the sheathe. “If I give it to you, you need to be fast,” he instructs. “No fumbling, no hesitation.” He draws the weapon and pulls the trigger, which only makes an empty clicking sound, though Steve flinches all the same. “I can probably drop the clip myself, but just for now we’ll practice without.” He gives over the weapon and Steve takes it by the handle, taking the magazine from his lap and shoving it int. “Pull back the slide,” Thor orders. “That magazine is empty, so don’t worry.”

Steve grabs the top of the gun and pulls back, sliding the top part with a click and letting it snap back into place.

Satisfied, Thor takes the weapon back. “Now with a full clip,” he orders.

This was what he wanted, right? To help? Determined, Steve takes back the gun with a firm jaw and reminds himself that he’s taken apart far more complicated devices. Radios don’t kill people though... Steve drops out the empty magazine and reaches for Thor’s vest, pulling out the full magazine and nudging it in as quickly as he feels safe. Then he draws back the slide and hurriedly returns the gun to its owner.

“Perfect,” Thor nods, holstering the weapon. “Let us hope you never need to use that.”

Steve nods in agreement. He feels much more at ease with the radio in his fingers instead of a weapon, taking apart what he built last night with sureness and packing it all away in his vest pockets. Then he puts on the vest and does up the straps, turning back to clean up their breakfast. He leaves a wad of cash on the pillow as a tip for the kind old woman, and offers Thor his arm.

With a wince and a great deal of caution, Thor stands up with the help and lets Steve take his weight for the first couple of steps. Once he’s gained his footing, he’s able to limp along well enough that Steve can let go and take the lead. Clutching the railing, Thor follows him down the steps and into the empty lobby. On the street is the car Steve ordered,  parked and ready. It’s quiet enough outside that he can shuffle Thor right out the door. Before anyone can see them dressed in tactical gear, and Thor open carrying, Steve punches the access code into the door to unlock it. He helps Thor into the passenger side first before sliding into the driver’s side and shutting the door. The engine starts with the press of a button, and he reaches for the shifter.

This is not an automatic vehicle. Steve stares at the numbers on the shift-stick, then down at the third pedal in the foot-well. When he looks back up, Thor has paused adjusting his seat and is staring at him.

“I can’t drive standard,” he blurts.

Thor peers at him. “How did you drive away yesterday, then?”

“That was an automatic!” And thank fuck that it was, or they would probably be dead or worse by now.

Thor reaches across himself to undo his seat-belt. “We’ll swap-” he starts.

“No. You can’t drive,” Steve protests. “There’s no way you can.” He grabs the clip from Thor’s hand and does up the belt again.

“Then what?” Thor asks.

“You can, uh, teach me,” Steve suggests with an apologetic smile. “I’m a fast learner.”

“Have you ever driven outside of the US?

“Unless you count yesterday, no,” Steve admits. “Never even driven outside of the city I learned to drive in...”

“Okay...” Thor takes a breath. “Alright. Let’s just... put the address into the  sat -nav.” He turns on the screen and navigates through the menu, typing in the botanical gardens and finding a route.

“Sorry... that one slipped me.” Steve admits, worrying the steering wheel. If it was jarring being a passenger on the left side, it’s even more jarring being a driver on the right side. But he’ll get used to it. They have no other choice.

“It’s alright,” Thor shakes his head, flashing Steve an apologetic little smile of his own. “Not much we can do about it. You took care of pretty much everything else. If you can handle being shot at and first-aid on bullet wounds, I think you can handle this.”

“Yeah, I can,” Steve nods  determinately to himself.

Thor sits back and takes a slightly deeper breath. “Shut the car off,” he orders, “and familiarize yourself with the shift stick. You need to know where the numbers are without looking.”

Easy: Steve has a good memory. He shut off the car and looks at the top of the stick, noting the pattern.

“Mirror me,” Thor explains, turning with a wince in his chair so he can demonstrate with his good arm. “We start at reverse, then go down and over. Up is first gear, straight down is second. Over one again, and we have three and four, then finally five and six.” He moves his hand, and Steve follows with his empty fist, cycling through a few times until he has the pattern memorized. 

He nods in confirmation. “Got it.”

“You cannot ‘creep’ like you can in an automatic,” Thor goes on. “Every time you change gears, you must disengage the engine from the gear-box using the clutch pedal. Push the pedal every time you want to change gears. If you want to stop, you need both the clutch and the break, so the transmission is no longer trying to turn the engine.”

That makes enough sense. Steve frowns and makes note of it. “Okay.”

“Alright. You understand about revolutions and when to change gears?”

“Yes.” He knows round about what the engine sounds like when his automatic changes gears.

“Good, start the car,” Thor orders. “The pedals go A-B-C in order: accelerator, break, clutch. Press the second two.”

Steve pushes a foot into the break and clutch each and starts the engine. This car is a lot newer than what he’s used to, but the major stuff like wiper blades and speedometer are in the same place. Plus Thor is here to work the computer and help him drive on UK roads, with UK signs, at UK speeds. At the very least, Steve has driven lots in a big city, so he’s used to lots of lanes of traffic.

The street is empty enough that they can safely practice, and Steve doesn’t have to worry about holding anyone up, or causing a crash. At Thor’s instruction, he changes gears and releases the clutch pedal, pulling away from the curb. Indeed, there isn’t the same ability to inch forward like there is in an automatic, and there is some roll-back, but not too much. Steve stays in first-gear as he approaches the stop sign, pressing both feet into the correct pedals to stop. He’s farther away from the line than he’d like, and he does lurch a little. Thor grabs his arm and sucks in a breath.

“Sorry!” Steve flushes.

“No, no, that’s alright, try again,” Thor rasps. “You’re doing well. Keep going. There are a few more intersections before we get onto the motorway, but we can always do another lap if you need. Now is a good time.”

No, it’s not, because they’re still on the run, yet Thor is still very calm about this, despite the fact that he’s about to take his life into Steve’s hands once they’re on the busy motorway. And they don’t have the time to take this slow.

Thor glances behind them in the rear-view mirror. “Alright. I want you to gather a bit more speed and change up, then change down again before we get to the next stop sign.”

Steve nods and engages the engine, paying close attention to the road as he presses the accelerator and listens to the hum of the increasing revs. When they increase high enough, he changes gears, pressing the clutch and nudging the stick down into second. Almost immediately, he drops it back to first so he has lots of time to glide to a neat stop with minimal lurch.

“Good, that’s good,” Thor is staring at him with approval. “That’s... that’s very good.”

“I  _ have _ driven before,” Steve flushes again.

“Still, you are remarkable,” Thor smiles with a shake of his head.

“You know, you don’t have to flatter me to get into my pants,” Steve remarks, flustered despite the fact they’ve already confirmed the attraction is mutual. “Or to get me into yours.”

“Not all compliments are to acquire sexual favors,” Thor calmly replies, sitting back as comfortably as he can and watching the road while Steve pulls away from the stop sign and gathers some speed again. “I give them because you deserve it.”

“Well, thanks-” Steve starts, cutting himself off as he goes to pull away, but the car just shudders and dies instead, rolling to a halt. “Sorry!” He whips his head around with concern as Thor stabilizes his arm and shakes his head.

“Everybody stalls at least once,” he shakes his head. “It’s alright. Turn left at this intersection and follow the road. You can practice driving with traffic for a few blocks.”

That is a very smart idea. Steve nods and obeys, careful about the order in which he tends to everything. This time he manages not to stall, pulling into the intersection and driving down the street before turning left. There are a few people on this road now, stopping, starting, and parking. A few early-risers are out jogging and crossing the street. Steve remembers to shoulder check to his left, but he’s not so worried about catching everything because Thor is watching too, ready to help get him all the way down to Sheffield.  _ I do enjoy a challenge... _ Steve reassures himself as he does the loop, gaining confidence with this new system as much as he can before he has to be flung into multi-lane traffic.

“Do you feel ready?” Thor asks.

“I think so.”

“I think you are,” Thor confirms. “Just keep your eye on traffic, stay in the slow lane, and I’ll tell you where to go. I will help you.”

“We got this,” Steve agrees, his confidence boosted by that alone. They have no choice, but that helped. It helped a great deal. He shifts in his seat. All-in-all, they’re in good shape: Thor is conscious and healthy enough to help, this is a new and comfortable car, and both of them are well-slept and well-fed. And now they have an end-point.

By the time Steve finishes the loop, he feels comfortable enough with the controls and the handling to merge onto the highway. It’s a little nerve-wracking, but he shifts up without a hitch, and suddenly they’re gliding along at a comfortable  speed amidst the morning traffic.

“Doing okay?” he glances over at his passenger. Thor is still very pale, but alert and watching the road and the sat-nav.

“I’m alright,” Thor agrees, turning on his heated seat before going straight back to nursing his arm. “I owe you quite the thank-you.”

“You saved me first,” Steve smiles. “You started it.”

“Still,” Thor persists. “A lot has been asked of you, and you have more than delivered.”

“Don’t most people you rescue want to go down on you the moment they see you?” Steve laughs, forcing himself to remember to focus on the road.

“Believe it or not, mid-mission sex is quite rare for me,” Thor chuckles, pushing back his seat and stretching out. “But there are cases where I’m willing to make an exception.”

“Stop it, or you’ll make me crash the car,” Steve flushes brighter, but he has to admit this is helping his anxiety to settle. This isn’t so bad now that he’s in the rhythm. When it comes time to overtake a delivery truck, he manages to get around it without any need for Thor’s help, pulling confidently back into the slow lane.

“You certainly know what to do with your hands,” Thor carries on his complements with a cheeky smile that feels like miles away from the gruff man who broke Steve out of that barn just days ago. “And your mouth. I haven’t slept so well in years.”

“Maybe when this is over we’ll have to celebrate, then,” Steve offers.

“Or I can return the favor,” Thor offers. “You have yet to enjoy what I’m capable of.”

“Okay, now I’m  _ really _ going to crash,” Steve grins, imaging a whole palette of vigorous imagery. As much as he enjoyed having Thor pliant in his hands, at his mercy, he looks forward to the idea of the reverse with equal enthusiasm. “You better make good on that promise.”

“Oh, I will,” Thor reassures, and the look in his eyes suggests he’s thinking about it right now. “I will bring you pleasure as you’ve never known.”

“I think I’m  gonna need it after this,” Steve eagerly agrees. Luckily, this whole ordeal hasn’t caught up to him as badly as he knows it eventually will, and when it does, he likes the idea of Thor being there to take care of him. Of course, he looks forward to the strong embrace of his mother, and Bucky’s own protective hugs, but sex will help too.

For the time being, he feels safe enough, too focused on the road to drift into his own thoughts and worries, but not overly stressed given that Thor is here to help, and the traffic is manageable. It’s empowering to have the wheel, and to be more-or-less in control. He feels so confident, in-fact, that he pulls into a drive-thru at lunch time, smooth enough with the shift stick not to jostle Thor as they work their way to the window. Thor unwraps his food for him and helps him eat while he drives. So far, no-one is following them, as well as either of them can tell.

Even though he’s still suffering from his injuries, Thor is in good enough shape to stay focused during their trip, helping Steve navigate to the right roads and interpret any unfamiliar road signs. He keeps  an eye out for suspicious traffic, too.

It’s a relief when they finally pull into the parking lot for the botanical gardens though, such a strong relief that Steve expects to wake up back on the river bank with Thor resuscitating him, and for the chase to begin again. Nervously inspecting the other cars parked there, Steve pulls into an empty space. Thor unbuckles his seatbelt and starts to get out, but Steve stops him.

“No,” he orders. “I’ll go first.”

“Steve-” a growl rises in Thor’s throat.

“I’m the valuable one,” Steve argues, shutting off the engine. “Just let me look around first, okay? I’m sure HYDRA wouldn’t kill me if they have the chance to take me alive.” But he has no doubt they would head-shot Thor the second they saw the opening.

Thor grumbles a reluctant agreement and slumps back in his chair. Triumphant, Steve gets out of the car and looks around. There are a few people leaving their vehicles to enter the building, but not many. None of them are paying them any attention anyway.

“Rogers.” Steve whips around and is suddenly faced with an imposing man dressed in all-black, wearing an eye patch, closing the distance between them.

Before Steve can say anything, or even figure out who this man is, friend or foe, Thor is shutting the door behind him, already standing. “Fury,” he rasps, limping around the vehicle.

“In the car,” Fury gestures to the beige SUV behind him, giving Thor a once-over but making no note of the state of his agent.

Steve grabs Thor’s arm to help him and all three men climb into the Range Rover, Fury in front and the other two in the back. As soon as everyone is inside, Fury starts the engine and pulls away, while Steve helps Thor get buckled in. They slump shoulder-to-shoulder, Thor still nervously watching out the windows, but more-or-less submitting to his weariness. That alone is a sign that Fury is trustworthy, if Steve didn’t believe it before.

“Looks like you had quite the time getting here,” Fury notes, looking back at them in the mirror, then straight back to the road.

“Things went to shit pretty much right away,” Thor huffs. “There were way more than twenty men in that barn, let me tell you.”

“You’re all in one piece, at least,” Fury says, and though the other man is difficult to read, Steve picks up on some relief. “I’ll brief you on everything once we’re there, but the short of it is that SHIELD is compromised.”

“Sir?” Steve leans forward urgently. “Do you... do you know where my family is?” He needs to know as much as he can before the tension eats him. Now that he’s in safe hands, he can finally worry properly about everyone else he cares about. Thor leans a bit heavier into him, and the warm presence is comforting.

Fury acknowledges him with a stare that’s still professional, but manages to be kind at the same time. “As far as I know, they are,” he explains. “We had James Barnes and your mother moved to a safe house the moment we knew you’d been taken. Then I flew them here when the plan went wrong.”

_ They’re okay! _ The sudden urge to cry nearly overpowers him, but he keeps himself together.

\--

Soon, they’re turning off the main road and into the countryside, following a small road until they reach a modest two-story house. Fury pulls into the driveway and straight into the garage, and none of them move until the door is fully closed. Eagerly, Steve slides out of the car and runs around to help Thor out, offering his support while Fury opens the door into the landing.

“This way,” he motions with his head. “Let’s get a look at you.”

Thor sinks his weight into Steve, limping and paler than he was when they left the B&B, but no less compelled to frown and open his mouth to protest. Steve cuts him off with a stern stare and helps him into the house.

There are more people here than expected, some sat around the dining table with files and equipment spread out, another coming over to join them in the sitting room where Fury arranges some cushions on the couch and stands commandingly beside it. Steve does his best not to fuss too much in front of company, but he can’t help himself from worrying a little over Thor’s positioning. He kneels to unlace the agent’s boots and pull them off one at a time.

“Thank you, Rogers, we’ll take it from here,” Fury gives him a nod, and the other man moves in, presumably a doctor.

Determined to stay, Steve starts to protest, but he’s cut off by the sound of footsteps from behind. Thor is pointing, urging him away with a nod and small smile. Steve turns and is on his feet in an instant, lunging into his mother’s arms.

He’s nearly a foot taller than she is, but she holds him up, squeezing him tightly. Bucky is right behind her, eagerly joining the hug.

They both pull away to inspect him, Sarah taking his face and turning it from side-to-side to get a better look at the healing bruises and scrapes. She rubs his cheeks with her thumbs and smiles, tears of relief gathering in her eyes as she draws him back into the hug.

Bucky is the first to speak. “You look good, Stevie.” He  pats his friend on the shoulder and squeezes it.

“So do you,” Steve inspects his friend and mother in return, glad to find they look unhurt.

There’s so much to say, but they don’t get the chance because Steve’s train of thought is interrupted by the low moan of pain Thor makes as his wound is exposed and the doctor starts to probe at it. “I need some help,” the man is saying to Fury still keeping watch by Thor’s feet.

Bucky immediately looks up. “I can help,” he offers, patting Steve’s shoulder again and rushing over to lend his expertise.

Steve wants to help too, but he’s not a doctor, and he really needs to catch up with his mother, who is already guiding him by the wrist out of the sitting room, past the dining table where the agents are working and into the empty kitchen where she hugs him again.

“I’m so glad you’re safe,” she murmurs into his shoulder. “I was so worried... I didn’t know you’d gone missing, and then these people showed up at the hospital and took us away, told us someone had you... God, Steve... I couldn’t sleep. They wouldn’t tell me anything, but I could hear them talking, and then we were on a plane flying here, and I still didn’t know if you were okay...”

“I’m okay,” Steve reassures, squeezing her firmly. “I promise.”

“Did they hurt you?” she asks, taking his face and staring up into his eyes, demanding answers with her own. Rage simmers beneath, but she has only gentleness for her son. “Did they do anything to you?”

“No,” Steve reassures. “No, ma, they didn’t. Thor rescued me before they could.”

“Oh, God,” Sarah shudders and leans back into his chest. “Director Fury said he was sending someone to get you back, but I didn’t know... Every phone call I thought he was going to come in to tell me they’d lost you, or that you were in the hospital, or... or worse. I almost can’t believe you’re here.”

“Me neither,” Steve whispers, burying his face in her hair. “I really missed you. I didn’t know what had happened to you either.”

“SHIELD took good care of us,” Sarah promises, pulling away and patting the kitchen counter while still holding protectively onto his arm. “Up. I want to check you over.”

“Ma, I’m fine,” Steve insists.

“One time you told me that, and you’d broken a rib. So get on the counter, Steven Grant.”

“It’s not a sterile surface,” Steve smiles, but he does obey, hopping up and working on the straps of his vest.

“Well, you certainly  _ look _ as if you’ve been in a fight,” she remarks. “Is that a...” she touches the blemish on his vest where the bullet was stopped.

Steve bites his lips and quickly slips off the vest, leaving it on the counter-top beside him. “Yup,” he replies nervously. “We uh... ran into some close calls.”

“Running  _ away _ from the gun, I hope.”

“Mom! I’m not an idiot.”

“Who are you, and what have you done with my son?”

“That’s mean,” Steve smiles, raising his arms so she can work off his shirt. “I was good.”

“Your friend had better corroborate everything you say to me, boy,” Sarah stares up at him knowingly as she bundles up his shirt and leaves it aside.

“My fighting days are over,” he promises. “I swear.”  _ Jumping out of a tree and stealing a car are not fighting. _ “But I did stab a guy in the leg with a screw-driver when he tried to grab me.”  _ And then fell off a bridge and just about drowned. _ His mother doesn’t need to know all the details.

She’s probing the bruise on his abdomen, feeling for internal bleeding. “You’ve had a rough few days,” she notes softly, pressing on his ribs where more bruises decorate him.

“You’ve seen worse on me.”

“Don’t remind me,” Sarah shakes her head. “What scares me is that I know you got into fights for noble reasons. You might be big now, but you’re still my Steve.” She taps his nose with her finger. “ So I know you’re not the type of man to sit on the sidelines.”

“No...” Steve admits bashfully.

“I don’t need to know,” she sighs. “I’m just glad you’re alright.”

Steve tries not to show how relieved he is that he’s been spared an interrogation, willfully submitting to his mother’s check-up. She insists on cleaning his cuts and scrapes, and he allows her that, even though they don’t need it, and even though he would ordinarily object to being fussed over like this – he needs her proximity, and she needs to know that he’s whole.

“Your friend is very handsome,” she mentions casually as she cleans a scuff on his back.

_ She knows. _ “Thor? Yeah...” Steve agrees, trying not to sound too obvious. “He’s pretty great. Got me here in one piece.”

“That he did,” Sarah agrees, “for which I’m very grateful. Have you kissed him yet?”

“Huh?” Steve stammers, but there’s no point in hiding it from his perceptive mother. She’s looking up at him with a sly smile, and he blushes. “Uh, yeah, we did...”

“Well, was he any good?”

“Full marks,” Steve smiles.

Sarah ruffles his hair fondly and pulls off his glasses, tucking them in her shirt while she examines his head. She worriedly rubs her thumb over his colorful temple, and though the skin is tender, it’s not bothering him anymore. The damage is cosmetic. Sarah checks his arms and legs before she’s satisfied, letting him off the table and standing on tip-toes to kiss his forehead. “All clear, mister,” she declares, sliding his glasses back onto his face. She deliberates over his hair, running her fingers through it and smoothing it down. “Let’s have some dinner, handsome. Here,” she gives him back his shirt. “I’ll make you something to eat.”

\--

“I always knew you were too smart for your own good.” Bucky cuffs him good-naturedly. “I don’t wanna say I told you so, but... I did.”

Between bites of sandwich, Steve smiles, washing down his mouthful with a sip of hot tea. “Okay, you win. You want a trophy or a medal?”

Bucky shakes his head and leans back against the counter. “So. Your friend.”

“Yeah, he’s hot, and yeah, we made out already,” Steve rolls his eyes and takes another bite. “You don’t  wanna make sure I’m okay before you go asking whether or not we fucked?”

“Did you?” Bucky lifts his eyebrows and grins. “ Cus I won’t tell your mom.” Sarah is in the sitting room now, seeing if there’s anything she can do to help Thor and the doctor.

“She probably already figured it out,” Steve sighs. “Why do you  wanna know,  Detective Barnes?”

Bucky smiles warmly and grabs him by the shoulders. “Right out of the jaws of death, and you still have the energy to be sassy.” He shakes his head. “Oh well,  s’how I know you’re okay. So, did you and your new friend, you know, do it?”

“I can’t believe you’re an adult,” Steve shakes his head and tries to sound disappointed. “Are you sure you’ve had The Talk?  Cus I don’t want to give you the details, but I will if I have to.”

“No, no,” Bucky waves his hands in surrender and laughs. “I don’t need to know. I just want to make sure somebody’s getting you out of trouble out there, that’s all.”

“I think I got him out of just as much,” Steve grins and looks at his friend in anticipation for the reaction.

Bucky leans forward eagerly. “I won’t tell your mom,” he reiterates.

Fury appears in the entrance before any exciting stories can be told. Steve glances up and brushes sandwich crumbs off his hands onto his plate. “I’ll tell you later,” he promises, sliding off his stool.

Everyone present in the safe-house is gathered around the dining table and all their work, Fury at the head. Well, everyone but Thor and the doctor, who are still in the sitting-room. Steve peers around the corner as he’s ushered to a seat and spots the agent’s legs, his upper body blocked by the man tending him.

There’s no time to linger or check up on his friend, because he quickly finds himself wedged between Bucky and his mom, and the meeting begins with Fury standing over them, hands calmly clasped behind his back.

“HYDRA is mobilizing,” the director explains solemnly. “How many, it’s hard to say, but whatever they’re up to isn’t good. Their efforts to apprehend Mr. Rogers and his colleagues were sudden and urgent. SHIELD has been infiltrated, and many of its resources compromised. Agent Hill has Mr. Stark with her, and they are working to uncover the rest of HYDRA’s plan. So far, we think they’re mobilizing for an attack, but we can’t say when or where, nor of what kind.”

That sounds... ominous, but not surprising. Steve listens closely, overjoyed to hear that Tony is alright, but unable to truly relax as he mentally sifts through years of research. When Sarah slips her hand into his under the table and squeezes, he squeezes back.

Fury turns his gaze to Steve, and the rest of the agents follow suit. “That’s why we need you, Rogers, to meet them and help. You don’t have to, but know that Stark was adamant he  has your help if we have a chance of succeeding in time, if we can succeed at all.”

“O-oh.” Steve finds himself stalling, even though his answer is already in his throat. He clutches his mother’s hand and swallows, afraid to look at her or Bucky. “Y-yeah. Yeah. I will. I’ll do it.”

“Steven-” his mother starts quietly, worriedly clutching his arm.

“I  gotta do it, Ma,” he looks at her pleadingly. “I have to.”

“I know,” she sighs. “I know, baby.” Sarah looks up at Fury, and her combined tone and expression could command anyone. “You bring my baby home, understand?”

“Ma’am, we will protect him,” Fury promises without a falter or a flinch. “I swear on my life. We just need him to help us track down HYDRA from a lab, where he’ll be perfectly safe.  We’ll keep him well away from the fight.”

Satisfied, Sarah lets up, but she keeps her grip on Steve’s arm while they listen to the rest of Fury’s plan.

“I will take Barnes and Mrs. Rogers with me to one of our better-stocked and safer hide-outs,” he explains. “The rest of you have been divided into teams to gather what you can. Sitwell, you’re to take Rollins and get Rogers to Stark and Hill.”

A smallish bald man looks up from his notes and nods briefly in confirmation. The much larger man beside him who also answers the order must be there for protection, because Sitwell is dressed in a crisp tie, and doesn’t seem like the fighting type. Not that Steve likes to judge people, but he just has a feeling. Rollins is huge and mean-looking, almost as huge and mean-looking as Thor, who appears in the doorway, haggard and leaning on the wall for support. He’s just as white as before, dark rings of suffering under his eyes. There are new bandages wrapped around his chest and shoulder, but they don’t hide the horrible bruising that still peeks from under the edges. His arm is still held in a tight cloth sling, and there’s a fresh shirt draped around his shoulders which does nothing to hide the state of his upper body. “I’m coming,” he announces gruffly.

“No, you are not,” Fury lifts his gaze up to his agent, not at all surprised, but definitely exasperated. “You’re going to the hospital first-thing tomorrow.”

“The mission isn’t over,” Thor insists.

“But  _ you _ are. Sit down,” the director orders with increased sternness.

Thor snorts and stomps around the table anyway, scowling all the while, the other agents staring at him with mixtures of surprise and incredulity. Ignoring every single one of them, Thor makes his way around to Steve’s side and stands at his shoulder. “It’s just to the lab,” he says. “I’m seeing him through this.”

“You’ll be fully paid regardless.” Fury is just about begging.

“I’m coming.”

“Fine,” Fury acquiesces and looks over at Sitwell. “He’s coming.” He addresses the whole group again. “We depart tomorrow morning at seven. Meeting adjourned.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for HYDRA being homophobic assholes. But I promise they will get what's coming to them, eventually.
> 
> I appreciate y'alls feedback! Thank you <33 It's helpful for me to see what your theories are, because then I can better plan my next stories! I also love to hear your thoughts in general B) You guys always spoil me.
> 
> What do you think, should I change the title to 'two blonde dumb-asses take turns saving each other'?

If there’s one thing he could use, it would be a bottle of pills. There’s no way he can get to sleep like this, with the other agents in the house, the reinvigorated pain in his shoulder (and the rest of him), and his needy tremor. His shoulder is fucked. He needs surgery, probably a couple of rounds, to dig out the rest of the bullet and repair the damage it caused. The doctor managed to extract a couple of pieces, but without enough supplies, he can’t dig too deep without the risk of causing more harm than good.

At least lying down helps. Steve brought him back to the couch, his guard against the attention of the other agents. The doctor is quite happy to leave Thor in Steve’s care, scurrying off to regroup with what little of SHIELD is sheltered here.

Steve is gone now, wandered off somewhere with his family. To spend some quiet time with them, Thor hopes. A jarring sensation of loneliness is crawling into his chest, but he stubbornly shoves it away and tries his best to think about how happy Steve looked to be reunited with his family. Thor liked them immediately, so much so that he did his best not to be terse with them when they took turns attempting to help. He would have done it for Steve’s sake, at least, but it helps that he likes them in their own right.

Thor does his best to shut his eyes and rest, but his shoulder alone is keeping him awake, so angry at being newly disturbed. All the while, exhaustion is pulling against everything keeping him awake. Despite having sat in a car all day, he’s still recovering from losing so much blood. Overall, he feels drained.

“Hey,” Steve says softly, appearing at his side. Thor jumps, his eyes flying open. Steve winces and touches his shoulder. “Sorry... I brought you these.” There are some blankets in his arms. Behind him is his family, with armfuls of blankets, pillows, and food.

Thor mumbles a surprised thank-you and shoves himself up on his good arm so Steve can wedge another pillow behind his back. Steve’s hair is damp and he’s wearing a t-shirt and a new pair of pants. He looks good. Cheerfully, Steve spreads one of his blankets across Thor and takes the sandwich from his mother, placing it on Thor’s lap. Then he sits on the floor and crosses his long legs, wrapping the other blanket around his own shoulders. His family follow, sticking close to their retrieved loved-one, and therefore close to Thor, bringing him into their little circle. Sarah sets a tray between them and passes out hot drinks with her work-weathered hands, smiling kindly at Thor as she makes sure his mug is safely balanced on his plate. She has Steve’s bright blue eyes and his long fingers, but she’s older, wiser, and what characteristic she shares with her son are matured. She wasn’t fazed at all by what snappiness Thor couldn’t contain when she came to give the doctor her assistance, and he has a feeling she wouldn’t take his shit. He’s already decided not to test her on that.

Thor snaps himself out of it in the middle of Steve’s rendition of their escape from the HYDRA base, explaining to his perplexed mother and best friend about the computer system he dismantled. Neither understand much of what he’s rambling about, but nobody tries to stop him or ask for clarification, because the rapid-fire explanations are clearly cathartic.

Not just cathartic for Steve. Content to listen, Thor sips his tea. Most of this doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, especially with the speed at which Steve can relay details, but that’s alright. The enthusiasm alone is captivating. He tries to imagine what he can, while appreciating the vast knowledge Steve possesses of his field of study. When his mug is empty, he shuts his eyes, listening to the conversation as the other two join in. 

Thor doesn’t know how much time wanders by spent in a semi-lucid state, just on the verge of falling asleep but still able to hear bits and pieces of the conversation. At some point, the chatter starts to fade, and lights are shut off throughout the house. Someone takes the cup and plate from his hands and walks away but Thor doesn’t open his eyes until the blanket is drawn up and a kiss is pressing into his forehead. He blinks up in the darkness, and Steve is smiling over him, settling back on the floor. Steve’s hand is cool on his forehead, brushing back his forelock and kissing his lips. Even if the other agents were nearby, Thor wouldn’t care if they saw.

Steve wraps himself in his blanket and leans against the sofa by Thor’s hips, taking the agent’s free hand. Thor squeezes back, grateful for the contact. Sarah and Bucky gather in close too, bundling around Steve in a protective cocoon. Thor smiles and shuts his eyes again, managing to fall asleep.

\--

He wakes with a jolt from a nightmare he’s had many times before. It never fails to alarm him though, enough that he actually folds off the pillows. The pain that shoots down his arm all the way to his fingers wrenches him into reality faster than he ever has before, and he sits there panting, restraining himself from grabbing his shoulder, though his hand flies up to it.

With reality comes all his very real pain. But in only a few moments, it also brings Steve, who appears by magic at his side to push him down in that stern but caring way that’s becoming a trademark.

“Breakfast,” Steve smiles, a tray in his hand. “Then we  gotta go. You know you don’t have to come, right...?”

_ I  _ do _ have to. _ “I’m still coming,” Thor rasps, clearing his throat with some hot tea.

“’ Cus you look really terrible,” Steve says. “It’s not too late to back out.”

“I’m coming,” Thor snaps, unable to control himself in time to prevent the outburst, though he looks away as shame brings out of his aggression. He rubs the muscles above his shoulder. “I’m seeing you through this,” he says more quietly.

It’s mildly surprising that Steve gives up the fight, instead giving his good shoulder a warm squeeze. “Okay,” Steve submits reluctantly. “But you have to promise me you’ll go right to the hospital when this is over, and stay there as long as you need.”

It’s an easy decision, but Thor still grumbles his agreement; he hates hospitals. Besides, when this is over Steve will go back home, so Thor can escape as soon as he’s seen to and recover on the Australian coastline. He’ll be alone at either venue, so why not spend the recovery time in his own bed? Fresh air is wonderful medicine.

That’s a way off. Thor tries not to think about what happens when the mission is over, finishing his breakfast in silence while Steve spends a bit more time with his family. Before he can finish, Fury walks out from the dining room and stands by his feet.

“I don’t want to hear it,” Thor growls. He’s had enough of people telling him what he should and shouldn’t do.

Fury’s eyebrows twitch upwards. “I was going to give you this.” He holds up his hands, a bottle of water in one and some pills in the other. “I don’t want to feed your habit, but one more dose should get you through.”

“Thanks...” Thor props himself sitting and opens his hand for the pills, hurriedly putting them in his mouth while Fury opens the bottle for him. The pills go down and he immediately feels like he can relax, even though they haven’t started to work yet.

“Just because you won’t listen to me doesn’t mean I won’t try to help,” Fury reasons, standing over him. “Be careful, alright? I don’t want to lose my best agent because he was too stubborn to stay down.”

“Nat’s your best agent,” Thor grunts as he sits up the rest of the way, pushing the blankets off his belly. As he moves, he spots Fury’s hand lift and his foot slide forward, but Thor has already turned and put his feet on the floor.  _ Fuck me. _ He winces and rubs his face.  _ I’m either stupid or insane... Maybe both. _

There’s no more time for chit-chat, because the clock is ticking, and Steve is back, cutting Fury off from saying anything else. The director gives Steve a respectful nod and walks away to tend to other business. Steve watches him go before turning his attention to Thor, kneeling in front of him to help him get dressed. It’s oddly soothing to watch Steve’s calculating eyes dart back and forth, making sure no detail is forgotten. Steve unties the sling and holds Thor’s injured arm perfectly still while he works on a clean t-shirt. The vest goes on too with Thor’s confirming nod. He feels better to be wearing it, even though it’s taken enough bullets that he should really replace it with a new one.

Steve ties his sling again and helps him stand up, but after a couple of days’  rest , he can walk on his own well enough. He can’t say he doesn’t appreciate Steve’s supportive arm around his waist though.

Sarah and Bucky are waiting for them at the door, and Steve pulls away to give each of them a hug. If Thor weren’t certain about seeing Steve through this, he certainly would be now.

They have words for him, too; Bucky walks over and holds out his hand to shake, nodding respectfully. “Thanks for looking after Stevie,” he says.

“Of course,” Thor blurts sincerely, firmly shaking the other man’s hand.

Sarah has words for him too, when she’s finished hugging her son and telling him to be careful. “Thank you,” she says. “Be careful.”

“We will,” he promises. With luck, it won’t be long before Steve can rejoin them. They just have to safely meet up with Stark and Hill in the lab in France, crack HYDRA’s plan, and then Steve’s work is done. Thor’s too. They can both rest, and let what remains of SHIELD take care of it.

The other agents are separating into small groups and preparing to depart, but Fury joins Steve’s family to see them off. Rollins and Sitwell are already waiting for them in the garage, but Thor doesn’t pay them much attention as he climbs into the SUV next to Steve. He can feel their eyes on him. He’s not a fan of either of them, but they’re rendering their services, so he avoids eye-contact lest he scowls at them. The garage door opens, the engine starts, and they’re driving away from the house as quickly as they arrived.

Thor sighs and gets as comfortable as he can in his seat. Steve has slid into the middle seat again, and turns his body so Thor can rest against him. That’s nice... Rollins might be staring at them with mixtures of suspicion and disgust, but he can go fuck himself. Thor glares at his fellow agent, quickly abandoning his attempts to hide his opinion of the man, and leans fully into Steve’s embrace. When Steve wraps an arm around his midriff, Thor laces their fingers. If Rollins can’t handle two men cuddling, he needs to grow the fuck up.

\--

The pills start to work, rendering the pain bearable. Thor can already feel that his body is worn out again, and that if he shut his eyes, he would definitely fall asleep. That’s not what he came here for though – no, he came to watch Steve’s back. Even if he doesn’t have to drive or keep an eye on the road, he’s still determined to at least stay awake.

Eventually, Steve’s free arm finds its way into his hair, stroking and rubbing so soothingly he’s honestly surprised he doesn’t nod off immediately.

Something keeps him awake, more pressing than his wounds; it’s the nagging in his gut, the way Sitwell and Rollins look at each other, their silence, and eventually the roads they end up on. Thor knows London extremely well, so when they finally enter the city limits, he immediately knows the route.

This is the most efficient route to the SHIELD headquarters. Thor blinks his eyes fully open and sits up a bit off Steve so he can watch out the window, but he doesn’t dare say anything – they can still get to the channel from here. As subtly as he can, Thor watches the road and the two men up front. Steve seems to have noticed his nervousness, because he’s perked up too. Smart as ever though, Steve doesn’t say anything.

The road ahead is blocked. Thor tries to adjust his position to see their surroundings better, but his shoulder stops him. Before he has to risk making some sort of noise, Steve helps push him up.

Rollins is staring at them in the mirror again, and Thor’s heart squeezes with alarm. He can see the muscles in the other man’s face clenching, his hand moving to his belt.  _ Fuck. He knows. He knows that we know something isn’t right. He’s going to kill us. _

“Wow!” Steve points out the window. “That’s so cool!”

Everyone looks. Steve is pointing at the Girkin, genuinely admiring the building. Rollins’ hand moves back into his lap.

“That’s the Girkin,” Thor explains, jumping on their chance to cover their sudden interest in the outside world. “And there’s the London eye.”

Steve glances over and makes brief eye contact while taking in the sights. ‘ _ Down, _ ' Thor mouths, and Steve nods back, loosening his grip on Thor’s waist. “Woah...”

Thor smiles. “Maybe we can go see it when this is over.” In a moment, he wipes the smile from his face and pulls his injured arm from the sling, shoving Steve down while he draws his gun. Sometimes it really is better to shoot first and ask questions later.

Steve’s quick-thinking was for naught, because Rollins already has his weapon drawn and is pointing it at Steve’s unprotected chest. A satisfied smirk curls his thin lips, and he snorts as he looks between the two of them. “Put it down,” he orders.

Thor holds his ground, working through his options. If he shoots, then Rollins shoots. Can he shoot faster, and if not, then can he guarantee that the other man will miss? Miss vitals, at least... He doesn’t fancy Steve’s chances regardless of where in his chest that bullet would hit. That’s not a risk he can confidently take.

But the alternative...? Thor can already see the SHIELD headquarters approaching through the other buildings. Whatever fate awaits both of them won’t be good.

There are still options, options that bleed away if Steve takes a bullet. If it hit his arm, they’d still be able to take Sitwell and seize the vehicle, but in the lung and they have another problem on their hands entirely. Thor holsters his gun and does his best not to snap something at Rollins that will definitely get one of them shot. He raises his hands.

“Fucking queers...” Rollins snorts. “I had respect for you, Blake.”

“All two pence that’s worth,” Thor spits.

“I would happily put another bullet in your sorry ass, but by the looks of it that might finish you off,” Rollins sneers. “Pathetic. Maybe I’ll put a bullet in your fuck-toy instead.”

Thor curls his lip. “You touch him and I’ll fuck you up.”

Rollins laughs. “How? You’re finished. I bet my granny could take you out.”

“You  wanna try those odds?” Thor threatens lowly. “Because we can do this like men and find out.” Rollins is wider than Thor, but Thor is taller, and the better fighter. Rollins is just a dumb-ass thug.

“Like  _ you’re  _ a man,” Rollins snaps  disdainfully .

“What, you’re not man enough to take a dick in the ass?” Thor challenges fearlessly. If they talk, the longer he can think of a plan. The longer  _ Steve _ can think of a plan, which so far the younger man has proven quite capable of.

Neither of them  have anything. With a gun pointed at them, and the SUV flying along the motorway, they have no options. And when the vehicle slows and pulls into an underground lot, it’s too late to act; as soon as they’re inside the parkade, where Thor has parked many times before, a small herd of armed men surround them. They open the back doors and reach inside. With a yell, Thor kicks the man who grabs at him and breaks his knee, shoving past and drawing his gun. The weapon is knocked from his hand before he can shoot, and Steve is shouting something in distress as he too is dragged kicking and wrestling from the vehicle.

In desperation, Thor tackles the next closest enemy, taking him to the ground and punching hard enough to break his nose, but there’s no time to deal a second blow because hands are yanking him back by the straps of his vest and throwing him to the ground. Someone kicks the back of his injured leg and he goes straight down. Steve cries out again, and Thor grits his teeth, rolling onto his back before a swinging boot can collide with his shoulder. With a clumsy buck of his hips, he kicks himself standing and charges.

There are too many men, and he’s too hurt to fight them off with his usual prowess. To his credit, he manages a few more blows before someone’s fist makes it through his defenses faster than his injured arm can lift in time to block it. The strike knocks him back a step or two, and before he can recover, someone else has grabbed his bad arm and tugs him. Thor yelps, but it’s cut off by the punch that drops him. He’s out before he hits the ground, Steve’s yelling ringing inside his ears.

\--

It’s disturbingly quiet when Thor wakes up, aside from his pounding head and his own labored breathing. When he opens his eyes, there isn’t much light to see by, and his vision is blurred. He winces and starts to move with a low whine, but before he can get his palm planted on the hard, cold floor, a boot kicks into his ribs and turns him onto his back. Without his vest on, there’s nothing to cushion the blow, which is a merciless one.

Rollins stands over him, two more men bending down to lift him off the floor by his arms, taking no care with his wounded one. Thor moans as quietly as he can, but he can’t completely stifle the noise, nor can he prop himself up well enough to stand without needing the help. The two other men take pleasure in shoving him roughly against the brick wall, and when the stars clear, Thor recognizes them as former SHIELD agents.  _ How many of these bastards are there? _

How many people he’s considered his allies are in truth undercover for the enemy? How many of them has he trusted to guard his back? Some of these men have helped set up missions in the past, or joined him on them. Some of them have had Nat and Clint’s backs. Are his friends undercover as well? Is  _ Fury _ undercover?

And where are Sarah and Bucky?

All these worries get jumbled inside his hurting head, but they promptly get smashed out when a knee drives into his ribs. Maybe it would be a good idea to worry about himself first, or at the very least pay attention to what Rollins is saying as he gets right into Thor’s face. “I’ve waited for this for years,” the other agent smiles cruelly. “There are a lot of people who would pay to be in my shoes right now. I’m a lucky guy.”

“I thought you said you weren’t gay?” Thor smiles, and it earns him a hard punch.  _ Weak... _ he tells himself, but it still hurts.

“I’ve been wanting to bring you low for a while,” Rollins takes a leisurely step back and rolls up his sleeves, flexing his fists. “Don’t worry though, I’ll make sure your pretty blonde fuck-toy can still recognize you. He might be easier to convince if he can save you some pain, though don’t think that means you can mouth off without consequences.”

“You talk a lot,” Thor coughs, tasting blood. His shoulder overpowers the rest of his aches well enough that he can’t pinpoint any distinct injuries. Nausea rises in his throat, and as much as he would love to see Rollins’ face after being sick on him, he wisely decides against trying to encourage himself to throw up. 

“I guess I’m not your type,” Rollins bares a toothy grin and saunters up again, now that he’s taken in his prize from a good distance. Thor’s not scared, at least not for himself – if Rollins is here, he’s not with Steve.  _ You had better be okay. I promised your mother. _ At least he knows if Steve doesn’t get out of this, then neither will Thor, because the only thing that will stop Thor is death.

With his arm held at this angle, his wounded shoulder is already aching particularly badly, but Rollins’ fingers pushing into it don’t help. The bleeding has already resumed, and it stains Rollins’ fingers through Thor’s saturated t-shirt. Already there’s a large patch staining the dark-grey fabric, and this isn’t helping. Rollins leans his weight into it, sick pleasure flaring in his dark eyes. Thor holds it back as long as he can, until the pressure is too much, and tears well in his eyes. The other two men hold him up and against the wall no matter how much his feet scrape on the floor, and he wrestles in their captivity. One rough shove into the wound rips a whimper from him, and Rollins laughs.

The two men let go, and Thor has to lean his full weight on the wall, his legs too shaky to hold him up. His efforts are worthless though, because Rollins clocks him in the head with a punch, and it’s enough to unbalance him. Thor drops like a brick, coughing, too weak and disoriented to fight against Rollins’ boot that nudges him onto his back again. That boots lands on his ribs and stomps the small amount of breath he’s recovered straight out of his chest.

“You will die here,” Rollins promises. “You’ll be lucky if we don’t drag that out too long. Maybe you’ll even get to see your fuck-toy again.”

_ Steve... _ Thor coughs and tries to regain his breath, and his thoughts, and his motor control, but Rollins once again reverts his progress by pressing the heel of his boot into his shoulder. It hurts enough that he blacks out to the sound of the agents laughing and locking the door behind them, leaving a linger ‘hail HYDRA’ in the cold air.

\--

When he wakes again, he’s still on the floor. But he’s alive, at least. That’s always a good start. Thor coughs and wipes blood from his lips and nose. Most of it is tacky, which means the flow has stopped. Good. He huffs dryly to himself and shoves himself sitting with his good arm, dragging himself backward until he hits the wall. Then he slumps against it and stares down at himself.

His vest and weapons are all gone, but at least he’s still dressed. His shirt is covered in blood and dirt, so much of it that he has to pat himself down to make sure he hasn’t been shot again. No, he hasn’t but his ribs are bruised, maybe broken. His injured leg is worse off than it was, too, and his shoulder is still bleeding. Thor sighs and lifts his shirt to wipe down his face and the blood in his eye.  Add a possible concussion to that list...

The mission isn’t over yet. Now that he can see better, Thor does a scan of the room from his vantage, and already he can see there won’t be any breaking out of it. This is a SHIELD cell, with a bullet-proof glass wall, and a guard stationed outside. Where is Steve? Is he okay? Has HYDRA hurt him yet?  _ I’ll fuck up anybody who does... _ Thor curls his lip, which rips open the tender split in it. He wipes away the blood in disgust.  _ That would be easier if  _ I _ weren’t fucked up... _

Rollins and the others will be back eventually. Luckily enough, Thor can still think and move, and if he rests a little he’ll be able to walk, but he can’t guarantee he’ll be capable of those things after another round of ministrations from his hosts. They may not even bring him food and water, depending on how long they want to drag this out for. That means Thor needs to think of a plan before they come back, for his own life and for Steve’s - Fury and Hill won’t receive confirmation of their safe arrival to the checkpoint, and even if they aren’t corrupted, a search might not be fast enough to save at least Steve. Steve and his soft, perfect skin don’t have long before HYDRA takes to it. HYDRA will ruin him...

_ Fury can’t be HYDRA. He cannot. _ Thor doesn’t believe it. He doesn’t believe Nat and Clint are corrupt either, or Hill. He  _ knows _ them...  _ What if I don’t know them as well as I thought? _ What if they are? What if everyone he’s ever trusted is HYDRA? What if  _ all _ of SHIELD is HYDRA?  _ No... _ Thor moans softly and shakes his head. That’s improbable.  _ Thor _ isn’t HYDRA, therefore there must be others who aren’t too, right?  _ They might as well all be HYDRA if I can’t say for certain who to trust. _

Suddenly he feels very alone. Is this how Steve felt when he was first captured? Was he afraid like this, uncertain for his future, if anyone was going to save him? Is he afraid now? Is he hurt? Is HYDRA hurting him?  _ What will HYDRA do to him? _ Images flood his mind, stirring up his urgency to think of a plan.

Steve  _ isn’t _ alone: he has Thor, and Thor will think of something. This is Thor’s job, to handle tough situations just like these. The odds haven’t ever been  _ this _ bad, but they have been close, and he’s always gotten through. If Steve can get them out of what he’s saved them from, then Thor can get them out of this. He firms his jaw and pushes his hand into his shoulder in a determined effort to stop the bleeding. He’s the best damn mercenary SHIELD (or HYDRA, whatever the fuck they are now) has ever hired, which means that one bullet won’t be enough to stop him.

_ Hang on, Steve. _ Thor shuts his eyes and gathers his strength, doing his best to forget his wounds and think of a plan.

Planning has never been a strength of his, but right now he has to. What would Steve do? Steve is remarkably good at handling situations like these, at least he has been throughout this mission. Unfortunately, Steve is cleverer than Thor is. Steve probably knows the atomic composition of glass and could break it by tapping at just the right angle, and some other science stuff that might as well be magic to Thor. Or maybe Steve can pick locks.  _ Unfortunately _ _ I’m not Steve. _ No, he’s not, but he  _ is _ Thor. And if he had Steve’s brain paired with his own physical abilities...? Well, actually he’s lacking a lot of his strength, so he can’t rely on his fighting skill as he usually would.

But Steve’s not a trained soldier, and so  far he’s been able to make use of other strengths to overpower those of his enemies. Maybe Thor could take down one man face-to-face in combat, but his odds  don’t look good if his opponent is armed, and his body is too injured to take on more than one enemy at once.

Thinking time is running out: he can hear heavy footsteps approaching. Thor lets go of his shoulder and slumps more heavily, hanging his head.  _ Hang on, Steve. _


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a pretty good thing Steve's hearing-aid is water-proof.

Though Steve fights as hard as he can, Thor is separated from him, disappearing under the men that subdue him. Thor fights too, but is quickly overpowered, and the last Steve sees of him is his bloody, ashen face and his closed eyes as the agent is dragged off.

_ They’ll kill him. _ Steve fights, even though he knows he’s no match for let alone one of these trained, armed men. But it’s a matter of principle that he makes sure they know he won’t come easy. Unfortunately, though, they quickly lose patience, and one man drives his fist into Steve’s stomach. The many hands restraining him tighten around Steve’s lax muscles, and they take him off gasping, away from Thor, away from the exit. Steve spots Rollins helping to drag Thor away, and fear claws at his lungs.  _ If they don’t kill him, they’ll hurt him. _

Steve recovers his breath, taking in as much of the journey as he can. There are so many hallways, so many doors leading into rooms, so many men escorting him, and more that pass by on their way to other locations.

In a matter of minutes, he’s whisked down one floor, through some more hallways, and into a large room full of storage boxes and shelves and another chair in the middle of it all. Steve is shoved straight into it, and promptly zip-tied to it. There is no banter, no threatening pleasantries – the lights are immediately switched off, a spotlight over the chair shining brightly down on Steve, and glowing eerily off the other occupants of the room. As one man steps out in front of the others, taking a tray of tools with him, Steve wonders if he’d have been better off staying at the bottom of the river. That feels like weeks ago.

The man says nothing, picking a knife off the tray and advancing. Steve trembles and whimpers before he can stop himself, but the blade only slices his shirt away. The garment is ripped off, exposing his bare torso. Cold as well as vulnerable, Steve tries to curl in on himself, but he doesn’t get much chance to contemplate his fate before the man picks up a baton, switches it on with a crackle of power, and pushes the end into his chest.

It hurts  _ so _ badly. Steve jolts, losing control over his vocal cords as he shouts out a surprised scream. Steve’s been in a lot of fights, punched lots of people and been punched just as many times. He’s been kicked and shoved. He’s fallen off the playground fractured his arm. He’s wiped out on his bike and gotten road rash. He’s even cracked a rib, and boy did that hurt for  _ weeks. _ He’s been seriously sick, which brought with it all the accompanying symptoms. But he’s never been tortured. And this is much more frightening than the threats made to him back in the barn, because at least he knew what was coming then. Here, nothing is laid out, therefore he can’t prepare.

The baton is finally pulled away, but it’s left a faint burn mark on his skin. The man rolls the weapon in his hand and stares down coldly. “You have made things very difficult for us, Mr. Rogers,” he says. “But you’re going to help us now. I have already sent men out to meet your project partner in France, so he will join you soon. Your family, too. I believe your mother and friend are on their way to another safe-house.”

_ Mom... _ Steve’s chest contracts, the muscles jumping from the charge still dissipating.  _ Bucky, Tony... Thor... _

“If you tell us what we want before they get here, I can save them some pain, and you,” the man goes on. “I have permission to call off the search.”

“F-fuck you,” Steve stammers in a burst of courage aided by a lack of self-control.  _ Bullies. They’re all the same. These are just bullies with better toys. _

“You are just a civilian,” the man says lowly, bringing the baton a little closer to Steve’s face. “You have no training. You have no defenses again the pain I will inflict on you if you do not start talking. I will damage you just as willingly as I will damage your loved-ones. So when I ask questions, I expect immediate answers.”

His chest burns. Steve coughs and feels tears squeeze through his eyelids no matter how tightly he shuts them. He has no idea what to do. He doesn’t know how much torture he can take, or what will happen if he tries to cooperate. What if they kill him and his family anyway? What if they kill innocent people with the information Steve gives them? Could he live with himself if that happened?

“The human body can endure immense trauma and still survive,” the man explains. “You don’t need both lungs to survive, Mr. Rogers, nor do you need your tongue to tell us what we need to know. Which would you rather lose, your fingers or your tongue?”

Steve instantly clenches his fingers around the chair arms, tugging on his restraints, his eyes flying open. He opens his mouth, but the baton is already jamming into his chest again, and held there for what feels like an eternity.

“I asked you a question.” The man draws the baton away and grabs Steve by the throat, lifting his head and holding enough pressure to restrict airflow.

Steve doesn’t know. If he says one, will they start cutting? Which one can he live without? Which one leaves him more vulnerable? Is it better to be able to ask for help, or maintain dexterity? Which one hurts more? If he gets out, can he get prosthetics? Will his career be over?

The man takes pity on him, sneering at the tears dribbling down Steve’s face. “Perhaps a simpler question then: I want access to Stark’s algorithms. If he keeps copies online, I want them, and if not, then I want to know where to find a physical copy. If they are in his head, then you will convince him to give them to us, or you can take turns under the knife until he cracks. Does he care more for you, or for himself, I wonder? Who has the higher pain tolerance?”

Steve is shaking so badly he’s honestly surprised he can speak. “He k-keeps all his c-codes on USBs,” he croaks. “They.... they’re back in America.” That’s the truth, though he suspects Tony will have brought his algorithms with him if he had the chance. Somehow Steve has the presence of mind not to mention that, and with pain and fear consuming his eyes, the other man is unable to detect that he isn’t telling the complete truth. At least as far as Steve can tell.

The man releases Steve’s throat and looks back to his men. “Radio the US base,” he orders. “Have them search Mr. Stark’s living quarters and retrieve the USBs.” He turns back to Steve. “There, that wasn’t very hard, was it. Though I hope for your sake you’ve told me the truth.” He pats Steve’s head and flicks off the baton. “We shall see.”

Then the men gather and file out of the room together, leaving one bulky man to guard the door just behind Steve’s right shoulder. Just like that, everything is quiet again.

The baton is right there on the tray straight in front of him. Steve shivers and bites his lower lip, holding all sounds and tears inside him. There are no more mysteries about what cards HYDRA holds. How long until they have Tony’s algorithms, if they can find any of his work around his house? How long until they get their hands on _Tony?_ On Sarah, Bucky? Steve clamps down on his lip until he tastes blood, his eyes welling up so badly they blur what little of the dark room he can see. It’s so dark in here, the blinding light in his eyes keeping him from taking in much more than what’s directly under the spotlight. And the burns on his chest are only hurting worse. It feels like he smacked himself in the ribs with a hot frying pan. At least the skin isn’t blistering when he looks down, but it’s definitely red.

If Thor were out there, whole and free, Steve might not be so worried. Even wounded, he’s certain Thor could have fought his way in and fought both of them back out again, but Thor  _ isn’t _ free. There is no guarantee of rescue, not even a large chance of one. As far as he’s aware, he’s alone, so that’s the assumption he has to make.

Are there any options? Steve sniffs and shakes his head to dislodge the tears so he can see, trying to get a better look at his situation. He’s zip-tied too tightly to wiggle free. Maybe if he could pop out his thumb, he could slip his hand out, but that guard in the corner will catch him before he can grab a knife and cut off the other three restraints, and Steve can’t take down a guy that big...

Surely attempting to escape is a better bet than sitting here and letting himself be tortured to death. Steve knows that when HYDRA is finished with him, they won’t simply let him walk free. No, he and everyone he loves will be dying here in due time. Either HYDRA goes down, or this is the end. They won’t ever stop. They won’t give up.

_ Steve _ won’t give up. He swallows roughly and examines his thumb, then the tray. If he can get his left hand out, he can reach the tray from here and grab that knife. Then all he has to do is cut himself loose and get past that guard before backup is alerted. Steve squares his jaw and flexes his thumb, wondering what HYDRA will do to him if they catch him before he can escape. Will they use the baton on him again? Start cutting off fingers? Break his legs? That would certainly keep him from running away... Steve chuckles dryly to himself, but it quickly warps into a moan of desperation. This isn’t a good idea, and he’s not sure he has the courage for it. Come to think of it, he’s not sure he even knows  _ how _ to pop out his thumb, much less if that would make his hand thin enough to slip under the tie.

_ If I wait, I might not be able to. This might the best shape I’ll ever be in. Once they come back, who knows what they’ll do. _ Is it worth waiting? Is it worth risking his current well-being in the hopes that his cooperation will continue to spare him harm? That they might lower their guard even slightly, so that he has better odds then compared to now? And if he waits, then he’ll have to break out anyone HYDRA captures by then as well as Thor.

_ Thor... _ Steve sure as fuck isn’t leaving him behind. Can Thor walk? The longer Steve waits, the lower those chances plummet. It might already be too late. And if Thor is still alive, what shape is he in? He’s just too damn huge for Steve to carry, and if they’re too slow they’ll just be caught again.  _ Oh god... _

It’s too much. Steve can feel tears gathering again, urgency threatening to drown him as he imagines the men bursting back in starting up again, as well as whatever is likely happening to Thor right now. The look in Rollins’ eyes when he was leading Thor away makes Steve ill.  _ I’m so sorry, Thor... _ What if Thor dies here? What if he’s already dying?  _ I can’t save you, I can’t... _ Sobs work their way up his throat and choke him before he can shove them down. This feels unbearably worse than the barn.

Crying won’t fix anything, but it feels like the only thing he  _ can _ do. His brain is scrambled. Even though he knows he’ll dehydrate himself, all he can manage is to sob none too quietly while he shivers in the cool air. For all his years of education, he has no clue what to do, whether he should fight now or wait. The analysis just won’t come. The numbers are blurred and ambiguous, all the variables overwhelming him. Too much could go wrong – too much has  _ already _ gone wrong.

\--

HYDRA doesn’t leave him alone for very long, the small group filing the room once more. The inky shadows are once again swarming with what might as well be a hundred men. The leader quickly fills his field of vision anyway, approaching with a mixture of fury and hunger. A punch flies out of nowhere and hits him in the cheek bone, knocking the glasses right off his face and filling his eye socket with pulsing agony.

“You lied to us,” the man says, picking up his baton. “My men found nothing. Where are they.” It’s an order to comply, not a question.

“I don’t-” Steve chokes. “I d-don't-”

The man punches him again, in the same spot. He touches the tip of the baton against the burns and draws around the sensitive skin, pushing into the tender bruising forming beneath without turning the weapon on, but threatening the button with his thumb. “Did your friend hide them elsewhere?” he asks. “Or are his algorithms on his person?”

Steve stalls a second too long, and pays for it with another dose of the crackling baton shoved against his ribs. It’s no less difficult to restrain his scream, which ultimately fails. His throat already hurts.

The man flicks off the device and looks over his shoulder at his men while Steve recovers. “Get Thor,” he orders.

“N-no!” Steve jumps, unable to help himself. “No, d-don’t hurt him!”

The men only laugh amongst themselves but continue on, leaving the room while the leader holds his ground. “Compliance is rewarded, but misbehavior is punished,” he explains. “Your friend is a trained warrior, but I think he is reaching his limit. I would like you to see that we can break even him.”

Steve hangs his head and sobs anew, desperate but lost for words, for actions. All he can mumble is a sorrowful, “N-no...”, and pray that this is still just a dream, that he’s still on that riverbank, that he’s just hit his head and Thor is back at his side in that hotel, unhurt... Can’t he at the very least let Thor die in peace, if his fate really is sealed? “Please no,” he begs.

“You will be sure of your obedience in due time,” the leader doesn’t budge. “When I’m finished with him, I expect you to have an answer to my question, and to have decided on your cooperation. Do not think we will let him die easily. There is far more he can endure before we let him go.”

Steve’s not sure what’s worse, being hurt or watching someone else get hurt instead. Hurt for his mistake. Thor is being punished for Steve’s pathetic inability to answer simple questions, for his lack of ingenuity and courage... Because surely if they were in opposite places, Thor would have already broken free and battled his way down to rescue Steve. Thor hasn’t stopped fighting. He didn’t stop when he took that bullet, and he didn’t stop even when Steve was supposedly safely on his way to Tony. And what does brave, compassionate Thor get for his trouble? He should be in a hospital right now, getting painkillers and rest.

The man is turning away, setting his baton on the tray and organizing a few tools, one of which Steve can see is a serrated blade.  _ Thor... _ Steve swallows his nausea as forcefully as he can, but he can’t staunch his tears. What will they cut first? Arms, legs, ribs? Will they stay with flesh and muscle, or cut into bone as well? That knife certainly looks capable of cutting it.

The light flickers, then goes out. Steve whimpers in the darkness at the sound of metal rubbing on metal as the leader sets down his tools and starts to give orders to his men in German. He’s asking them to get the light back on. That was not intentional.

A hand touches his lower back, and he nearly cries out, but  another wraps over his mouth and a pair of bristled lips brush his ear. “Shh,” Thor murmurs. “Shut your eyes, and hold still.”

Steve obeys, squeezing his eyes tightly shut and holding as still as he can. In a moment, Thor slides out his hearing-aid and rests the barrel of a gun on Steve’s shoulder to steady his aim. The light comes back on, and Thor squeezes the trigger.

Even without his hearing aid on that side, Steve still winces as the close shots ring in his good ear. He doesn’t dare look as people yell and run and dozens of bullets cut those cries off. He doesn’t open his eyes until the bullets stop, and Thor slides the barrel off his shoulder. The shadows are littered with bodies, and what little ground the light shines on is splattered with blood. The leader is dead on the ground by his tray.

Thor is immediately in his field of vision, throwing down his stolen rifle so he can use his good hand to take a knife off the tray and cut Steve free. He’s covered in blood, and a lot of it looks like his. There are new cuts and bruises all over his face, his hands, and half his shirt is glued to his body with blood that appears to mostly have come from his shoulder. His injured arm he holds close to his chest, and he’s bent, limping, clearly in serious pain, but his eyes are completely aware. They sweep over Steve with simmering rage as Thor cuts him free.

Steve is barely free before he’s collapsing into Thor’s arm and hugging him tightly, another round of tears starting to come up though he knows now is not the time. Thor pushes Steve’s hearing-aid back in before hugging him tightly in return with his one good arm.

“It’s alright,” Thor murmurs, struggling to hold up both of them. His voice sounds hoarse and breathless. “It’s alright, Steve.”

“Oh, god...” Steve moans. “Thor...”

“Are you hurt?” Thor pulls away and gives the burns in Steve’s chest another look. “Steve...”

“I’m okay,” Steve breathes, wiping his eyes on the back of his hand. “I promise. It just hurts. That’s all.” It hurts bad, but Thor looks like he’s on the verge of collapse, like it took all his strength to get here. They need to go before they’re found, and while Thor can still walk, and even that he’s barely capable of.

Thor doesn’t look satisfied, but there’s no time to perform triage. He starts to kneel, but by the looks of it he might not get back up if he does, so Steve stops him and kneels instead. He already knows what Thor was going for; Steve robs a nearby body of his belt as fast as he can. Nearby are his glasses, which he picks up and hurriedly pushes onto his face, ignoring the crack in one of the lenses. He stands and clips the belt to Thor’s waist, and the gun holstered to it sits at his left. Thor immediately draws the weapon and starts to move, and Steve rushes to help him, bearing whatever weight he can. Thor can’t even unfold his injured arm to get it around Steve’s shoulders, but he leans into the support and they both set off as fast as they can.

People are running through the hallways above, getting closer. Steve looks around, trying to remember which way he arrived – anxiety is tampering with his photographic memory, distorting what little he can actually recall. “I think it was-” he starts, but Thor is already leading them, looking back and forth as he takes them down a  ways then across to a service door. Steve instantly grabs the handle and opens it so Thor can keep his gun trained on both ends of the hallway.

They slide inside a dark room, and Steve locks the door behind them. Across is the dim light of another hallway shining through the pulled blinds, but it looks empty. Thor is already walking toward the opposite door, and Steve follows, opening that one as well, so grateful that Thor knows his way around this place.

“We need a vehicle,” Steve says.

Thor nods, looking both ways before allowing them both into the hallway. He’s slightly grey under the smeared blood and swollen bruises on his face, shaking ever so slightly but pressing on. Steve pushes a supportive hand into his chest, careful of the tender spot the other man seems to be cautious of.

First, they need to get to the parkade, then they need to either get some keys or hot-wire something, and these are new vehicles, not old ones that are easy to break into. They don’t have the time for Steve to hack into the computer system, and how do they intent to outrun experienced drivers? Thor certainly can’t drive with his fucked arm and his fucked leg, and Steve knows their last car chase ended well partially because of luck.

As they stumble onward, Steve stops them, tugging Thor aside into a room that just caught his attention. Thor follows, nudging the door shut behind them and leaning heavily on the wall, taking all his weight off his hurt leg and watching for shadows through the drawn blinds with his gun raised.  Somehow he can still watch Steve move at the same time though, curious but trusting. There is no objection, no questioning.

Steve takes a deep breath and calms himself as he moves, swiping a blue janitor’s polo shirt off a hook. This is a locker room, and its full of supplies, weapons, and a row of polymer-mesh jackets marked with the SHIELD eagle. Steve hurried shrugs one on for himself before helping Thor into one.

Another sweep reveals his main goal: keys. Steve grabs a handful off the rack and stuffs them in his pockets. For the final touch, he straps a belt to his waist and stuffs the pouches with magazines. Then the turns the belt so the clips are against his back.

“We need to go,” Thor orders, nodding to the window. People are coming, footsteps stomping down from one side of the hallway. Steve nods, pressing himself back up against Thor’s side. He has something of a plan, a plan that Thor doesn’t question as they both break out into a run. Thor is somehow managing to run, despite how badly it clearly hurts him. Sweat is cutting lines through the blood, but he just keeps going and going until they burst through a door into the  parkade .

HYDRA is close behind, following them up the steps, and about to pincer them from the other doors that lead here. They have seconds before bullets are doomed to come their way, and neither of them can spare a hit. If Thor takes it, that will almost definitely cross his limit, and if Steve takes one then he can’t help Thor.

Steve fumbles his handfuls of keys, pressing buttons until he sees a set of lights blink close by. “On the bike!” he orders, throwing down the other keys. Thor aims for the SHIELD-issue motorcycle before Steve has to point, moving to mount it. “Other way!” Steve corrects.

Frowning, Thor turns to sit backwards in the seat. Steve swings his leg over and slides down so they’re chest-to-chest. With one turn of the key, the engine purrs to life.

“Arm round me,” he grabs Thor’s hurt arm and wraps it around his waist as delicately as he can, wincing as Thor stifles his moan. “Hang on.”

“Do you know how to drive this?” Thor asks. “I cannot teach you-”

“You just focus on the people following us, okay?” Steve backs the bike out of the space and turns it on the front wheel as the  parkade starts to fill with enemy agents. “And yes, I know how to ride these. I have a Harley.” Thor doesn’t need to know he hasn’t driven it in ages, and never the way he’s about to drive this one. But they have no choice if they want to outrun HYDRA in dense London traffic.

Thor hangs on and doesn’t argue, his  whole body shivering and tense against Steve’s, but his grip strong. Steve puts the bike in gear as bullet start to shower them, and Thor immediately shoots back.

A barrier is descending to lock them into the  parkade . Steve revs the engine, and the brand-new bikes shoots forward, quickly gathering more speed. Steve doesn’t falter, flying under the barrier, which quickly starts to rise again so HYDRA can follow. In seconds, they’re in the sunshine, and launching into traffic.

Steve finds his steady hands, finds his courage, and speeds up. He doesn’t know where they’re going, but he’ll work that out when their tail is clean, which might take some work: a dozen more bikes follow behind, HYDRA agents in pairs riding them, one to drive and one to shoot. Ss he turns a corner, Steve spots them and a handful of cars leave the  parkade and fly onto the motorway in pursuit.

With Thor shooting, Steve can focus on driving. The motorway is packed, but this is a sleek bike, and it can handle corners a lot tighter than Steve’s old Harley. Steve sinks into his seat and darts around an SUV, then between two sedans. People are honking and holding phones out of windows, which means the police won’t be long. And as far as they have to assume, that’s not a good thing. Steve speeds up at the sight of the roundabout ahead, and drives straight into it, a sporty hatch-back nearly taking out his back wheel as he does so. Heart thumping, Steve whips around the plants in the middle and straight across, one car rear-ending another after he drives between them.

Something crashes, and Thor is still shooting. “One down!” Thor yells.

Steve smiles. It fades back into a frown of determination at the sight of the blocked intersection.  _ Oh god... _ He slows enough to set down his foot and pivot the bike around it, swinging the bike to face ninety degrees the other way. Then he pushes off and speeds up again, looking for anything they can use to lose their tail. HYDRA drivers are definitely more trained than Steve, and if Steve isn’t smart enough they  _ will _ catch up.

Angry British people are honking and yelling, someone ringing their bike bell at him, but the cyclist leaps out of the way the second he sees Thor has a gun, and that a swarm of other bikers are following shooting back. Steve revs the engine and moves into the bike lane, tearing past a bus. It feels like they’re seconds away from wiping out, which will undoubtedly kill both of them at this speed, without any helmets. Is it better than being tortured by HYDRA...? Probably. Steve barely misses the nose of a taxi as he plows straight through an intersection as the lights change. He can hear another crash a few seconds, later, but he doesn’t look back. He just drives on, veering between lanes and driving between streams of cars while Thor shoots.

“Reloading,” Thor announces, and Steve turns a corner then straightens up, continuing to weave but doing his best not to make any sudden movements in case he throws the clip out of Thor’s shaking hand. He can feel Thor moving as fast as he can, dropping the empty clip into the road and fumbling another from Steve’s belt into the handle with his wounded arm, grunting as he does so. “Got it,” he says gruffly, and Steve takes a sharp turn down another street.

Two bikes have caught up, and Steve sees them approach in the mirrors, even though his vision is partly blocked by Thor’s shoulder and head. They’re flanking him, pulling up on either side, just a lane of traffic separating them. Thor’s seen them too, but the angle isn’t so good for him to shoot.

“Hang on,” Steve orders. “Get ready.” There’s a large enough gap up ahead, right in the middle of a foot-path that crosses an intersection. Any pedestrians on it have already fled, so the coast is clear for Steve slow their speed and spin the bike in a circle, sweeping Thor’s shooting arm. Thor shoot, and he takes down both drivers. Steve straightens up before more of their pursuers can catch up, taking off down a winding road flanked by shops. 

There are a set of  step to his right, leading up into a park. It’s worth a try. Steve gains speed, hoping these bikes are able to handle steps like that.

They are. The bike flies up the steps, and people scatter to move as he yells a warning. Meanwhile, Thor hangs on, shuddering in pain as his injured body is jostled relentlessly. “Sorry!” Steve can’t help but gasp as they get some air and land. The shocks are good, but it still must hurt.

“Drive straight,” Thor coughs out the command, and Steve obeys, churning up grass as he rips off the path. He can already hear the other bikes following behind. But as they appear of the crest in his mirrors, Thor shoots them. He kills two and dismounts another two before there are  two many to pick off, and the enemy starts to spread out behind. Steve focuses ahead again and zig-zags around sparse trees. They need to get back into the road, back into traffic where they have some cover.

Thor is still doing his best to shoot as many men as he can, emptying another clip and reloading. They can’t drive fast enough not to get shot but also land good hits either, not when Thor has just a hand-gun, and one hand to aim with. The enemy is riding two per bike, one sat on the back to shoot, but at least their weapons have similar range. One slip-up is all it would take for HYDRA to have the upper-hand. One clean shot into Steve’s back, either of their heads, or the bike tires. That’s it, and they’re done for.

Steve thinks through his options in a flash, driving through a gap in the chain barrier, across the side-walk, and back into traffic. He darts in front of a transport truck and turns back the other way, then turns again down a side-street while the cargo shields them. One bike is hit by the truck driver, and the others are only slightly delayed in their pursuit, quickly spotting Steve’s path. Half follow, and the other half branch off.

“I need to get to the river,” Steve says, looking around as he drives.

“London Eye,” Thor says, and that’s all he  _ needs _ to say, because Steve can see it from here, and it’s not very far at all. All he needs is enough of a gap between him and HYDRA, a corner he can turn and be unseen behind for a few seconds. Steve joins the main road again and follows it, watching for that second group to reappear. He can see them through the buildings following on the adjacent road, while the others gain from behind. Steve slows a bit to let them gain, and they split to flank him, aiming their weapons.

Steve breaks. The HYDRA agents are already shooting, so they hit each other as Steve turns and picks up speed again, cutting between some shops and up to the next road over, behind the second group. He carries on, crossing yet another street before they can look behind and spot him. Thor just hangs on, ready to shoot but wrapping his good arm around Steve’s back. He’s panting into Steve’s neck.

It’s the lead they need. Steve crosses yet another street, rides up another set of steps, and flies past long lines of people waiting to get on the ride. They pull out their phones, yelling and moving back, but Steve ignored them, giving them a wide birth as he carries on toward the bridge. The waterfront is right there. Steve swings the bike around and drives down behind the Eye, behind the tourist building beside it, and spots a gap in the railing. “Move!” he yells, and some tourists with cameras lunge aside so he can drive the bike through. Steve gives it as much throttle as he can, and they fly off the retaining wall and into the water. Steve lets go of the bike mid-flight and untangles himself from Thor so that when they plunge into the frigid water, he’s able to quickly recover and help Thor too. The bike sinks, and Steve is quick to shed his jacket, letting it float away. Thor is surfaced beside him, turning onto his back so he can kick and stay afloat, his wounded arm rested over his belly. The cold is already getting to both of them, Thor especially.

Steve swims alongside Thor, looking around the water as they work their way into the middle of the river. It’s a lot colder than he expected. He looks back and spots a herd of bikes pulling up to the railing, looking out into the water and searching the nearby area. Steve quickly grabs Thor and dunks them both under the waves, swimming as hard as he can for both of them. A small cruise ship is approaching. Steve pops up so they can both breathe, just as the boat passes between them and the shoreline teaming with HYDRA. He wraps his arm around Thor’s chest and grabs the side of the ship, hanging tightly to both as the boat drags them along. When he looks up, a group of tourists are staring down at them.

“Uh, hi,” Steve gulps some air. “Could I trouble you for a hand?”

\--

In a matter of minutes, they’re inside the cabin, wrapped in thermal blankets, the first-aid attendant rummaging through her meager supplies while one of the passengers goes for hot drinks from the lounge. Steve eases Thor’s weight onto the bench along the side of the cabin the other man clinging to him. They’re both shivering, but Thor is much worse for wear, collapsing into his seat and weakly holding his injured arm. Now that a lot of the grime has been washed from his face, his striking grey color is fully unveiled, along with the vibrant  bruises splotches over it. More blood is already leaking out, but it’s more sluggish now that Thor is so cold.

The other tourists from the group are worriedly gathered at the door to the cabin, watching while the first-aid attendant moves Thor’s arm away from his shoulder and lifts his shirt. They all stare at the completely blood-sodden bandage there. It’s come loose and the ends are dangling, the loops starting to slip down. The woman pushes the gauze over the wound and holds while Steve holds Thor’s good hand in his.

“I should probably ask why I shouldn’t call the police,” the captain says, turned to face him in his seat while the co-pilot steers.

Thor opens his mouth, but Steve squeezes the other man’s frozen fingers and looks up. “We’re being chased,” he admits honestly. “They kidnapped us and they were going to kill him. We won’t cause trouble, I promise.”

“Where are you headed?” the captain asks, and Steve can see compassion in his eyes. They’ll be safe here.

_ No clue... _ “However far down the river the tour goes, we’ll get off there,” Steve says. Far away from here is a good start.

“There’s a hospital just down-river,” the captain offers. “I can make a stop there.”

“No, thank you,” Steve hurriedly replies. “They’ll find us there.”

“Do you need anything else?” the captain asks, concerned and obviously curious, but keeping his questions to himself. “There’s not much we can do for you...”

Thor coughs, and they all stop to listen until he’s finished. “I need a phone,” he finally speaks, so quiet they almost don’t hear him. “Please.”

A woman instantly hands over hers, taking it out of her purse and unlocking it before giving it over. Thor thanks her with a nod and pulls his hand away from Steve’s, shakily taking the device and tapping buttons with his thumb. They have no-one, no SHIELD contacts, no allies. But Thor does, somehow, and Steve just has to trust and watch his friend tip-tap numbers and write out a text message. Steve only glimpses the message when the phone is handed back to the woman, and Thor gives her a weary, grateful nod.

The other tourists are back, carrying mugs of coffee and a plate of sandwiches that looks stolen from a buffet.

Steve sits beside Thor and passes him a mug, making sure he can actually hold onto it. One sure sign that Thor is in bad shape is that he doesn’t resist or even look up to acknowledge the small crowd of people watching as Steve helps him take a few sips. But the coffee does help, and Thor holds the mug on his own, leaving Steve free to take the one given to him. He nods gratefully and sips, keeping as close to Thor as he can. The plate of sandwiches goes in his lap, and Steve eats one more out of nervousness than hunger. He’s shaking more from anxiety than cold at this point, and being close to Thor helps. Thor needs it too, leaning in too, maybe for emotional support just as much as physical.

But despite the severity of his injuries, he’s still holding together, still focusing on their surroundings even if he doesn’t have the strength to engage with it much. He even reaches for a sandwich when his coffee is finished, giving over his cup when one of the tourists offers to refill it. She takes Steve’s mug too and runs off to get more coffee.

It’s peaceful in here, where everything is muted and the water is gently lapping at the sides of the boat, the engine humming at the other end of the vessel. Lots of people are walking around on the decks, but Steve ignores them, looking out at the scenery stretching away from the river. Somewhere out there, HYDRA is still looking for them, and they’re looking for Sarah, Bucky, and Tony if they haven’t been found already. Tears start to well up again, and he quickly stuffs his sandwich back into his mouth. Thor leans a little harder into him. There’s too much to process, everything so complicated and so simple all at once; they’re alone out here, yet not.

These kind people are all ready to help in any way they can, even the small group of tourists who are choosing to spend part of their sight-seeing tour down here, waiting on strangers. One of them returns with the coffee refills, kindly handing over the mugs. The first-aid attendant isn’t able to do much for them, other than tie up Thor’s arm in a sling, but she’s kind and earnest in her approach.

“Sir...” a woman steps forward, holding out her phone to Thor. “Sir, someone just texted back.”

Thor looks up, leaving his coffee in Steve’s custody and taking the phone from her, peering at the screen. His eyes light up, scanning over the message. “Thank you,” he says, giving the phone back to her. Immediately, she nods and taps the screen a few times, turning it around to show him that she’s deleted the number and message thread. He nods back and looks up at the captain, who spins around in his chair and leaves the controls to his crew-mate once more. Thor has to gather his strength to speak. “Could we trouble you for a stop?”

“Of course,” the captain replies readily.

“Trinity Buoy Wharf,” Thor requests. “Please. As close to the dock as you can get. We can swim.”

“Nobody is swimming,” the captain reassures firmly, turning back to the controls. “I’ll take care of it.”

Both of them slump in relief, even Thor, who despite his endless stoicism isn’t doing anything to hide how pleased he is that he doesn’t have to go back in that water. Steve is pretty happy about that himself. The captain speeds up the tiniest bit, which Steve is grateful for. He says a silent apology to all the people trying to enjoy their tour. 

Thor looks too tired to do much more than drink his coffee, and catch his breath (which he’s still doing), so Steve refrains from questioning him, maintaining his steadfast support instead. At least Thor is awake, and making his own efforts to stay that way. Steve wonders how much longer Thor can go on before he truly runs out of steam. They’ll really be in trouble then.

Steve watches out the window while he eats another triangle of sandwich, worried that he’ll see speedboats covered in armed HYDRA men chasing them, or helicopters descending from above, but everything looks normal. Allowing himself to be distracted by the sights, Steve finishes his sandwich and presses his hand into Thor’s chest, while the other he wraps around the agent’s back to hold him. It’s a small comfort, but it’s good to know they’re together, still breathing. So long as they’re both breathing, they can get through this. That much he believes, even it sounds like a line on a cheesy inspirational poster. Only this isn’t something empty he tells himself, but a phrase constructed from the truth of what’s already happened. It’s a statistic, and the numbers are in their favor, but as much as Steve likes his numbers, he prefers people. Computers can be hacked, their loyalties changed on a dime, but people aren’t so easy. And most people are good and kind. Maybe somebody will help his family, too, wherever they are. Steve leans more firmly into Thor’s bulk and rubs the agent up and down his shivering chest, careful of his bleeding wound and injured ribs. It’s a soothing motion for both of them.

Thor looks like he’s about to doze off when the ship pulls into the docks. The captain is on the radio, acquiring permission to dock, explaining they need to make an emergency stop to double-check something with the engine. Then he changes channels and directs the tourists the other way, pointing out some landmarks and keeping their attention transfixed so that his stowaways can leave without crowds of people to see them. 

Steve sheds their thermal blankets and wraps Thor’s arm across his shoulders, propping his friend standing. Thor is having a much harder time walking than he was before, hardly able to bend his leg or put much weight on it. The first-aid attendant is quick to support his other side, careful of his injured arm.

“Thank you,” Steve nods at the captain. “I don’t have anything to give you, other than a five-star review.”

The captain shakes his head and waves his hand with a good-natured smile. “Good luck,” he says. “Wherever it is you’re going.”

Steve wishes he could at least offer the man some money, but they have nothing, so all he can do is graciously accept the aid. One of the tour guides leads them through the ship with their small entourage of tourists, taking them back out onto the deck and across to the boarding ramp. The boat is already tied onto the dock, and all the other passengers are on the opposite flank of the boat, taking pictures and pointing while the captain holds their attention.

The first-aid attendant doesn’t pull away until both men have their feet safely planted on the dock. Steve turns back to her and the others. “Thank you,” he says. These people probably saved their lives. “I can’t thank you enough.” They wave and smile, and Steve feels warm, smiling to himself as he turns away and helps Thor limp slowly up the empty dock to a bridge that leads to the main platform. They’re dry enough that the breeze off the river isn’t too cold, but Thor is shivering more violently, and his shoulder is bleeding more vigorously now that he’s warmer.

“P-parking lot,” he stammers hoarsely, pointing with his head.

Steve nods and leads them past the main building, between some parked cars so a couple of people walking by don’t see them. Someone gets out of their car up ahead, turning to look right at them, and Steve freezes, his heartbeat starting to pound faster.

But Thor isn’t worried. In fact his soft moan sounds relieved. “Loki...”

The man approaches, picking up his pace even as they continue to limp closer. He’s dressed in crisp, neat clothes that Steve imagines are expensive given that the fabrics look tailored with how well they fit. The car he can now see is a sleek Mercedes sedan. The man himself is right on them, giving Steve barely a glance before looking Thor up and down. His intense worry quickly becomes a scowl when Thor smiles at him. “Get in the car,” Loki orders. “Let’s go.”

“I knew you would come...” Thor murmurs.

“Hurry up.” Loki turns on his heel and strides back to the car, opening the back door and standing impatiently by it as he watches their surroundings and tries not to stare as Steve gets them both into the back seat. Without another word, Loki shuts the door for them, slides into the driver’s seat, and starts the engine. Thor breathes out a soft, shaky sigh and slumps more heavily into Steve. Loki puts his foot into it, and Steve decides to save his questions.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'alls comments give me life, thank you for the feedback <3
> 
> Also I finally did some more drawings. Gotta remind myself to just post stuff sometimes and stop feeling so self-conscious about it.

The car ride is long. The engine is too quiet, and nobody speaks, so the only sound filling the silence is Thor’s rough breathing and his occasional soft whine of pain. He’s listing, trying to stay awake but drooping every few moments before yanking his head back up and blinking furiously. 

There are thick bloody smears on the perfect beige leather, but Loki doesn’t seem to care, focusing on the road and glancing at them in the mirror every few minutes, but saying nothing. Steve wants to question where they’re going, but he chooses not to, focusing on just keeping Thor awake. Eventually though, his efforts aren’t enough; Thor shuts his eyes and doesn’t straighten again, still breathing but completely passed out. The car speeds up. 

Loki follows the motorway unspeaking, all while Steve holds tightly onto Thor, one hand pressed into his shoulder in an attempt to control the bleeding, the other wrapped around the agent’s limp wrist measuring pulse – at the very least making sure Thor still has one. 

Maybe all he needed was a bit of rest. Maybe he’ll be better in a little while. Steve tries not to think about how warm Thor’s forehead is when he touches it. 

As the car turns off the country road they’ve been following for a while, Steve can’t help but momentarily turn his focus away from Thor to admire the scenery. Trees quickly surround the road, lush greens almost all that’s visible, glimpses of the blue sky and the blue sea shining through the foliage. It’s beautiful, as is the mansion that emerges as they turn a bend. A black gate slides open to let them through, and Loki drives up the stone-paved driveway lined with lively flower bushes, up to a fountain in the center of a roundabout. Loki drives around and parks in front of the stone staircase, coming around to open the back door. 

“Thor,” Steve gives his friend a shake. “Wake up. We’re here.” He gives the other man a gentle tap on the cheek. 

To his relief, Thor’s eyebrows crease and tremble, and he opens his eyes, taking a moment to soak in his surroundings and company before moving. Nobody rushes him, but Loki does reach down to help him out of the car. Steve drapes Thor’s arm across his shoulders and hangs on tightly, so glad they don’t have to carry Thor inside as he follows Loki around the side of the house. Thank god they don’t have to try the stairs, either, because there’s a path through some weeping willows to a back door, which Loki unlocks and ushers them through. 

Inside the house is no less lavish, polished floors shining under warm lights as Loki flicks them on. Steve admires with an open mouth as he helps Thor past a mahogany dining table, a grand piano in the corner by a wide window overlooking the blooming flower garden, and down a hallway into a large bedroom. Without care for the fate of the pristine sheets, Loki pulls back the blankets and helps get Thor straight into bed. It’s a big bed, even for Thor. 

Loki isn’t rough, but he’s certainly grumbling as he slips the sling off Thor’s head and shoves the fabric aside, drawing a knife from nowhere. He slices off Thor’s shirt and bandages with a couple of quick swipes. Steve puts Thor’s boots on the floor and takes off his own before straightening to stare at the wound. He barely has a moment to take in the state of it before Loki is speaking. 

“It’s infected,” Loki announces, putting the knife on the nightstand. “I’ll boil the kettle.” Then he turns and walks off. 

Injuries aside, Thor looks perfectly at ease, not at all put-off by the terseness of their host. Steve moves in closer now that the space is free and strokes back Thor’s spiky forelock while he tries his best not to look too closely at his shoulder. The skin is inflamed, leaking pink and red fluid from the opening. Along with the thick metallic tang of blood is the sweet smell of infection. 

Steve sighs and sits on the bed, running his fingers through Thor’s hair. “Honestly...” he shakes his head and manages a weak smile. “How are you still going?” HYDRA beat the shit out of him, and he still came to recue Steve. “How did you even escape?” 

Thor stares blearily up at him, a faint smile on his split lips. “Played dead,” he says quietly. “Came over to make sure I was alive... Piece of cake.” He doesn’t have the energy to fully explain, but Steve fills in the blanks. 

“You’re unbelievable,” Steve smiles with more determination as his tears return. 

“Hey...” Thor’s hand slips across the sheet and touches Steve’s leg. 

He feels ragged around the edges, like all the togetherness he managed to build up is crumbling away. Soon there’ll be nothing left. But he can’t let himself fall apart, not yet, because he’s not the one with a bullet in him. Steve shakes his head and takes Thor’s hand, squeezing it for his own comfort just as much. 

“You’ve got a black eye...” Thor murmurs, brushing Steve’s bangs aside and running his fingers around the eye socket. 

“Not the first one of those I’ve ever had,” Steve chuckles dryly, searching for something to cling to. He sniffs and wipes his nose. “Used to get into fights all the time... You wouldn’t believe.” 

“I can believe it.” Thor is smiling back. 

“I’m not sure if that’s a complement or not,” Steve’s laugh has a splash of strength now. “I was always getting into fights that were too big for me... And I was small. Like a third your size.” 

“You?” Thor stares him up and down, a tad incredulous, which brightens Steve’s smile. 

“Yeah, I was,” Steve replies. “Late growth spurt. And you’re damn lucky I grew out of my asthma, too.” They would certainly be dead otherwise. 

Thor looks like he’s about to say something, but he doesn’t get the chance, because Loki is back with some supplies. At the sight of the steaming kettle, Thor pales impossibly further and looks away, his shivering resuming. Loki has removed his jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his collar shirt, his hair tied back and his expression difficult to read. It’s a mixture of determination and a sternness so deliberate that Steve can’t help but second-guess it – it’s too forced. 

“You must hold him,” Loki orders, pouring hot water into a mug. He throws over some folded towels and Steve catches them, sliding onto the bed and straddling Thor’s hips again. 

“Are you ready?” he asks, and Thor looks up at him, nodding shakily once and biting his lip. Steve draws his thumb across it and shakes his head, folding up the edge of a towel and pushing it into Thor’s mouth. 

Loki is standing over them with the mug at the ready and a mildly impatient expression. Without a moment more delay, Steve grasps Thor’s injured arm at the bicep and his good shoulder, leaning into them. Unapologetic, Loki advances and tips the water into the wound. To his credit, Thor doesn’t move as much as Steve expected, though he worries that may be due to the severity of his condition. It still hurts a great deal though, evidently, and it breaks Steve’s heart that all he can do is hold his friend down. As much as Loki’s approach rouses something protective in him, he has to admit it’s better they get this over with. And it’s better to be safe than sorry, so Steve supposes it’s best they douse the wound in the second mug-full of boiling water Loki does not hesitate to approach with. 

It’s over faster for Steve than he imagines it is for Thor; in a matter of minutes Loki has quietly and efficiently finished his work, and is reaching for the first-aid kit. There’s not much in there, not as much as they need for something like this, but at the very least they can cover the wound. Without needing to be asked, Steve gets off Thor’s hips and sits beside him on the bed, determined not to collapse in front of this stranger and doing his best to soothe himself by continuing to stroke Thor’s hair. The adrenaline has fully worn off, and the gravity of their situation sunken in. It no longer matters that they have help and a place to stay – it's not enough to keep his spirit afloat. 

Loki tapes some gauze over the angry wound and sighs, wiping his hands clean on a cloth as he scowls down at his patient, who has passed out again. “Fucking idiot,” he grumbles, turning neatly on his heel and striding for the bedroom door. “Watch him.” 

“Where are you going?” Steve slides off the bed and lurches forward, desperate not to be left alone and too frightened to piece anything together. He already feels vulnerable, and Loki has barely crossed the landing to the front door. 

“To buy some medicine,” Loki replies tersely, slamming the door behind him. 

That’s enough for Steve’s tired brain to be satisfied that this man will help them. _Maybe_ it’s all a lie, and Loki will turn them in after all this, but what does it matter? Steve runs back to the bedroom urgently and dives under the covers for some kind of protection. He needs to get off his feet before he falls over, and he needs to be close to someone. All he has is Thor. 

Thor is breathing through his mouth, consistently but still shaky and rattly. His ribs aren’t broken but they’ve got to be terribly sore. Steve wraps his arms around Thor’s waist and pushes his face into his relaxed abs. Sobs have already taken his control, and all he can do is try his best to keep breathing. In, and out. In, and out. In... 

His chest hurts. It aches from pressure and it burns from the marks on it. He can still hear the crackle, feel the involuntary clench of his muscles and the way they continued to contract after the baton was pulled away. What else would those men have done to him if given the chance? If against all odds Thor hadn’t managed to overpower the men he’d tricked into coming into his cell, and then continued to walk all the way to where Steve was? Steve clings tighter to Thor’s waist, trying hard to fight back the fear crawling up his spine that those men might appear from nowhere, take them away again, and this time they won’t be able to escape. This time they’ll torture both of them. If he closes his eyes, he can clearly see Thor on his knees under the spotlight, a man standing over him with that sickening serrated blade in his hand, cutting into skin and bone, cutting open Thor’s shoulder until his arm falls right off. 

Steve can see it all as if it were real, can feel the same fear as if he were still tied to that chair, awaiting hits he can’t foresee. They’ll come. Will those men pick up that baton again? Will they stick to punching? Or will they take to him with that knife? Something else? 

Sitting in the lab with Tony drinking lattes and laughing as they fire up their equipment feels like another lifetime. What if he never sees Tony again? What if they never escape this? What if they can’t get Thor the medicine he needs, and he dies? Bad enough that his shoulder and possibly his leg won’t heal properly without surgery, so where does that leave them? Steve just wants to shut his eyes and wake up when it’s over. 

A lot of time passes before he manages to pull out of his panic attack, though he’s not sure how much. Steve lets go of Thor’s waist and pulls himself from under the covers, wiping his eyes. He winces as he applies too much pressure to his bruised one, but the pain is something to focus on. It’s nothing compared to what Thor must be feeling, but it’s a task to take care of. Steve slides out of bed and rearranges the blankets, sniffing determinedly and wiping his glasses clean – they're smudged from where they were pressed into his face, not to mention everything else they’ve survived. It’s a miracle they’re only cracked. 

Thor is still asleep, a fevered pink high in his cheeks, but his color otherwise unchanged. He _looks_ sick, and terribly bruised. Steve rests his hand across the other man’s forehead, rubbing his thumb over the bump between Thor’s dark eyebrows. They’re lightly furrowed with pain that not even unconsciousness can take away. And there’s nothing more that can be done. 

Feeling helpless, Steve trudges off in search of a bathroom, taking he first-aid with him. His own bruises are hurting now, and his muscles ache from all kinds of things – being trapped in that chair, being shoved and dragged around, fighting and falling and running and using muscles he generally doesn’t work that harshly. 

Luckily, it doesn’t take much searching to find the nearest bathroom, which is just down the hall and across. It’s huge, bigger than Steve’s own bedroom back home, and just as pristine as the rest of this house. Steve pulls off his polo shirt and slumps against the marble counter-top, turning on the water and rummaging for washcloths to avoid having to look at himself in the mirror. Fuck, he’s a mess... And after spending so much time with Thor, the strongest person he’s ever seen, his body looks so much thinner in comparison. The bruises only accentuate his ribs, and the line of his cheekbone. Thor’s right: he _does_ have a black eye, and the skin around his socket is scraped from the two brutal punches he took to the face. There’s even a mark where the arm of his glasses pushed into his head. 

There was a time when he used to come home with all kinds of bruises, with scraped knuckles from punching, and scrapes elsewhere from other people punching him. Some of those kids punched _hard,_ but he could take it. Nothing could stop him, so a few bruises won’t stop him now, either. Steve swallows forcefully and wipes away a few welling tears, taking off his glasses and hearing-aid so he can stick his head in the sink. He scrubs his hair and rubs it with a towel when he’s finished, feeling brave enough to take a closer look at himself. 

The burns and underlying bruises in his chest have fully developed, glazed over with a thin sheen of clear fluid where the first few layers of skin were broken, and swollen from the low-grade burns. The blisters sting when he dabs at them with water, but it’s better than an infection. Steve clenches his jaw and wipes them down with some swabs from the kit. It stings, but he knows this is for the best. It’s probably best to let them get some air, too, so he lets them air dry and puts his shirt back on. Cleaning up makes him feel better – not by much, but it’s something at least. Steve tries to stand a bit taller and puff out his chest, hoping that maybe if he looks and acts the part, he can feel it too. 

In the end, this is the best he can do, and this hard-fought-for composure will quickly dissolve if he doesn’t find something to hold it in place. Steve fumbles with his hearing-aid and glasses, consoling himself that his hands are shaking because he hasn’t quite recovered from his dunk in the Thames, despite that being hours ago. He finds another washcloth in the cupboard and soaks it with cold water, walking back into the bedroom. 

Thor is still asleep, but he’s twitching a little, his lips moving every so often – he's dreaming. Steve hopes it’s a good dream. He climbs back up onto the empty side of the bed and sits cross-legged, deliberating for far too long over the folding of the cloth. Then he lays it across Thor’s forehead and holds it there, wishing he could contribute more than this. 

\-- 

After a while, Steve is too jittery to sit still. Feeling slightly better, he slides off the bed and goes off to find a glass of water. Loki won’t mind if he gets himself a drink, will he? 

The kitchen is easy enough to find, though it takes Steve a few tries to open the many cupboards until he finds the glasses. Dehydration won’t help that infection, so Steve fills a second glass for Thor and is about to head back when something catches his eye on the shelf in the corner. There are a few decorative vases filled with flowers, a framed photo tucked behind some orange daisies in a milk glass vase. Steve puts down the water to pull out the picture. 

The man on the left is undeniably Loki, with the same dark hair and lean build, sitting calmly at a picnic table in the shade. He’s leaning on his palm, watching and listening with mild amusement to the man on the right, who is gesturing boisterously as he tells a story. The wide grin, the long blonde hair gathered at the base of his neck in a ponytail... it takes a moment for Steve to realize that’s Thor. The two boys must be about fifteen, but Steve can tell that Thor is already tall and muscular for his age, promising the size he is now. Wearing shorts, the boy’s legs are clearly visible in the sunlight, not a scar nor a tattoo to be seen. 

That looks like a happy child, unblemished by horrors which Steve has only glimpsed. The photo is just a snapshot, not a promise that life was always that way, but Steve does wonder what changed. _Something_ changed... 

Steve carefully replaces the photo and walks back to the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed to drink. The water feels lonely in his stomach. It’s tempting to go back to the kitchen in search of some food, but he stops himself, deciding he’s snooped plenty already. 

It’s a good thing his glass is empty by the time Thor jolts awake, because Steve almost drops it as the other man violently folds off the pillows with a shocked cry, his eyes flying open. Steve shoves the glass onto the nightstand and slides off the bed to stand beside it, reaching out to steady his friend. This is the second time he’s seen Thor wake up so suddenly. Worriedly, he helps him lie down again and replaces the cloth. It’s warm by now, but he can’t bring himself to leave and refresh it just yet. 

Thor comes back to himself rather quickly, his face covered in a sheen of sweat. Steve puts the glass of water in his hand, relieved that Thor can hold it by himself. After a few sips, Thor looks up at Steve, then frowns as he searches the rest of the room. 

“Loki went out to get medicine,” Steve explains, leaving a steadying hand in the middle of Thor’s chest. Maybe Loki will bring back something for the pain. As it is, there’s not much Steve can really do – not that there ever was. But he can run his fingers through Thor’s hair and continue to stroke it soothingly, trying for a smile. “Too bad we’re not somewhere more private...” he mourns, “or I’d offer you some more pain-reliever.” 

Thor smiles at that. “If you shut the door and write a note he will not interrupt us.” 

“Maybe after he gets back, so we can war him before-hand” Steve suggests. On that topic... He frowns. “Are you sure you can trust him?” 

“Certain,” Thor affirms, not a doubt in his eyes. “Loki is my brother.” 

“Brother,” Steve can’t help but lift his eyebrows. “Wouldn’a guessed. You guys look nothing alike.” 

Thor smiles. “He’s adopted,” he explains. “It may have been a while since we talked, and we are no longer on the best of terms, but I trust him with my life.” 

“What happened?” Steve frowns sympathetically, sitting on the bedside again and getting comfortable. 

“We... had a disagreement,” Thor sighs distantly. As Steve mounts his hips carefully, he pushes his hand under Steve’s shirt and cups the smooth skin of Steve’s waist with his large, rough hands. “He does not approve of some choices I made, but I could not take over our father’s company. There have been grudges held about who was set to inherit ownership, but once I left and gave it over to him, I don’t think he ever truly enjoyed it. But, it is the last of our mother’s legacy. Perhaps he felt he would be betraying her to sell it and take up other passions. As much as he and our father did not get along, the company was his and mother’s both.” 

“Sounds messy,” Steve commiserates as best he can, rubbing his hand up and down the grooves in Thor’s abdomen. He runs his finger along a thick scar there and frowns a little at how new it looks compared to the others. 

“My last mission,” Thor says. “It was a high-caliber bullet. That was a painful one.” 

He seems so used to it, so casual as if it’s normal to sport bullet scars. “Why do you do it?” Steve asks worriedly, unable to stop himself from looking over at Thor’s shoulder, where the gauze covers the opening, but does nothing to hide the aggressive discoloration around it. 

“Everybody needs a job,” Thor gives a weak one-shouldered shrug and an even weaker smile. “This is what I’m good at.” 

Nobody is saying that Thor _isn’t_ good at this. Steve shakes his head. “Why do you put yourself on the line for other people, knowing you might get hurt, or killed?” 

“Someone has to.” 

If not Thor, then someone else. Would anyone else have managed to get Steve from there to here? Would anyone else have been able to keep going after taking a hit this bad? “But _you_ don’t have to,” Steve argues softly, brushing Thor’s bangs with his fingers and cupping his tired face. Thor has such a beautiful face, so strong and stern, but hiding softness underneath. Steve rubs his thumb along an eyebrow, needing to be close because Thor is warmth while the rest of the world is frigid. 

“I had to get away,” Thor whispers, pulling Steve closer with his own neediness. “Look where we are. I don’t belong in a place like this. In a suit, filing paperwork.” 

“I think you’d look good in a suit,” Steve says, sliding off Thor’s hips and pressing himself close, Thor’s arm wrapping around his waist to hold him. It feels nice. Thor lifts his right hand off his belly to draw off Steve’s glasses, folding them up and leaving them on his abs, returning to stroke Steve’s bruised cheek. His hand is uncoordinated and moves stiffly, like whatever strength he can summon to move it is sporadic. Steve can only imagine the damage the bullet has done, and he fears that more and more of it becomes irreparable the longer it takes them to get to a hospital. “You didn’t have to do this...” Steve lays his head on Thor’s good shoulder and rests his hand on Thor’s pec, drawing around the nipple. 

He’s looking for an explanation that Thor can’t give – _won’t_ give, maybe _._ As if in apology, Thor kisses his hair. “You’re shaking,” he whispers. 

“I’m scared,” Steve admits, and it feels more real than it did just days ago when they were in that hotel room. The chances that this is all a dream have bled away. Determinedly, Steve shakes his head and swallows his tears. He’s had his moment, in private. “You shouldn’t be worrying about me,” he protests firmly, but it doesn’t have the strength he hoped for. “You need to rest.” 

“I can rest and worry about you at the same time,” Thor reassures gently, the deep calming tones of his voice wrapping Steve in a layer of safety that makes it harder still to hold those tears in. “It’s my job, to worry about you.” 

Steve barks out a laugh through the sob that’s rising in his chest. “You didn’t do this for the money,” he squeezes Thor’s solid body tightly, careful of his shoulder and ribs. “If you’d done it for the money, you’d be in a hospital with a topped-up bank-account, and I’d still be in that chair.” Thor can make all the excuses he likes, but he’s already earned his award for employee of the month, for going above and beyond. 

Thor has nothing to say in his own defense, but he does hold Steve a bit tighter. “I should have been faster,” he whispers. “I should have seen it. If I’d never let you get in that car in the first place...” 

“You got me out,” Steve shakes his head. “You got me out. I’m only sorry I couldn’t help you.” God, it must have hurt so badly, fighting, _moving_ in Thor’s condition. Steve can only imagine. 

“You did,” Thor reassures firmly. “If I take credit for the first half of our escape, you get credit for the second half.” 

Submissively, Steve sighs and doesn’t argue. He wipes his eyes and breathes out a shaky huff. There’s only one safe place in the world, and it’s right here, under Thor’s arm. His one good arm... Steve shivers, wishing they had more people they trusted to help them, and feeling guilty for asking more of Thor, who has already given so much, who deserves rest. 

Thor rubs his shoulder comfortingly. “It’s alright,” he promises softly. “It’ll all be alright, I promise.” 

Steve believes it, even though he’s not sure how they’re going to achieve that. “My mom...” he whispers, and it’s the best he can muster. “HYDRA said they knew where she was being taken... They know where Tony is. What if they already have them?” HYDRA won’t spare even his mother from their torments. Steve has no doubt they would torture a woman. Sarah Rogers is one of the toughest people he knows, but he’s not sure how she would hold up to torture. He doesn’t want _anybody_ to get hurt, and he’s not sure what he’ll do if they hurt his mom. 

“Then we’ll get them back,” Thor promises, his certainty unwavering. “I’m with you until the last enemy falls and everyone is safe.” 

“I can’t ask that of you,” Steve moans. 

“You’re not. I am giving it, and you have no choice,” Thor replies evenly, squeezing Steve tightly into his side, the muscles in his arm flexing. Even this half-hug is powerful, and Thor radiates strength regardless of his injuries and his fever and the trauma he’s muscled through. “You are my mission, which means nobody stands down until you and everyone else you care about are safe.” 

“What about you...?” Steve pleads. “Thor...” 

“A little rest and I’ll be alright,” he promises. “And we will not be alone. I have faith that some SHIELD agents are still out there, and I know that if they are, then you can find a way to contact them. And Loki will help us, I know it.” 

That’s something. Steve nods readily, confident that he can get in-touch with whoever of SHIELD they can still trust, regardless of what channels he needs to access. And now with another ally, it may be easier to get a hold of any equipment they may need. 

But not right now. Steve props himself up on his elbow and holds Thor’s bristled jaw, leaning down to kiss him. “Can we stay here for a while?” he asks hopefully. 

Thor blinks up with weary pleasure, a smile on his lips which he parts in invitation. “If you insist.” 

Steve indulges for a moment more, then hovers close as he disconnects their mouths. “Do you need anything?” 

“This is doing me just fine,” Thor’s smile warms his whole face, but despite his eagerness he allows Steve to come to him. Steve slides his leg back over Thor’s hips and shifts to get comfortable. 

Steve kisses with strength, grabbing a handful of breast and shakily kneading. This is just what he needs. He rubs his cheek into Thor’s beard and kisses his ear, sucking on the lobe. 

Thor’s hand reaches up to take him by the ass again, holding on possessively. “You know,” Thor whispers into Steve’s ear, tickling the sensitive skin with his bear. “I could ease than tension. Perhaps it would help.” 

Steve looks down at the other man, and Thor’s eyes are alight with ideas which Steve quickly starts to imagine. “You need rest,” he argues. “How what do you intend to do?” 

“There are many things a man can do with just one hand,” Thor teases, reaching under Steve’s shirt and drawing up his spine. The rough skin scratches just right. “As there are many things a man can do with just his mouth.” 

“And how would that work, exactly?” Steve lifts his eyebrow and quirks a smile. “I’d be pressed right up against the wall. Not exactly comfortable. You’re not budging an inch from here.” 

“Then sit,” Thor offers. “Right where you are. Let me ease the tension.” He teases with his fingers, drawing his hand around Steve’s side to rub a nipple with his thumb. 

God it feels good, so good that Steve almost caves right then, because he knows that what Thor’s offering would make him feel _loads_ better. “Somehow I don’t think it would be appropriate for you to jerk me off in your brother’s bed,” he counters reluctantly. “He already seems annoyed. I don’t think he’s be pleased to walk in on that.” 

“Fair point,” Thor agrees, thoughtfully rubbing the nipple some more. “But I can listen out for his return.” 

“He won’t be long,” Steve fights for control. “I know this is a big house, but I don’t think I’d be able to clean up before he could walk from the front door to here.” 

“You could hide under the blanket and pretend to be asleep,” Thor suggests wisely. 

“I think your brother would figure it out,” Steve smiles. “Besides, I don’t want to rush it.” 

“Neither do I,” Thor agrees. “Soon this will be over, and I will be able to take my time, I promise.” 

“I look forward to it,” Steve smiles, leaning back down for another kiss. “For now this will have to do.” 

“How unfortunate,” Thor shuts his eyes and lets Steve inside his mouth, clutching Steve’s shoulder blade. 

“I’m not leaving you either,” Steve pulls away just long enough to say it, still close enough that their lips are brushing. “I’m with you until the end of this, and however I can be afterward.” He seals his own promise with a strong kiss. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why it took me so long to write this chapter... I still don't really like it, and there are issues with it and the rest of the story, which I'm trying my best to think how to resolve them. I might not manage it, so try not to think too hard about the intricate workings of the plot (though of course I always value your feedback, because I want the next story to be even better, but just know that I had 'wtf' moments thinking about what I've done as well). I'm trying to think just hard enough about it to make it work, but not so hard it sucks the fun out of it. Just know that I am working very hard on this. Please continue to offer your feedback! I really do enjoy reading it.
> 
> Running into some computer issues too... I'm tired, y'all. But, good news! Planning some epic showdowns B)

They’re in dire need of a plan, but fortunately they have Steve, and Steve is typing furiously on the laptop Loki has loaned him. Thor is mesmerized, watching Steve’s long fingers fly across the keyboard, and his eyes dart around the screen. The blonde is much more at ease now that he has something to focus on, pulling out of himself, though he’s definitely not alright. He looks tired, his eyes ringed from stress, the bruise aside. Thor wonders what exactly happened in that room before he managed to get Steve out. He heard a scream on his way there, and it still plays in his head like a sickening soundtrack. 

Loki nudges him and pushes a couple of bottles of pills across the dining table. His brother is still wearing that look of displeasure.

These are not over-the-counter drugs, but Thor doesn’t ask where Loki got them. He dishes himself some antibiotics and pain pills, counting them with more deliberation than he would ever employ, and swallowing them with water. He hopes it’ll be enough to get him through this.

Loki is watching him, his expression no less difficult to read. Thor wipes his mouth and looks away from his brother, unsure what to say or do, how to explain him or the shame he feels. To distract and reassure himself, he watches Steve instead, trying to ignore how disappointed he feels as Loki gets up and walks away.

_ He doesn’t know what I went through. He doesn’t know anything about what this life is like. _ No, trying to force resentment to cover up that guilt doesn’t work at all. The aggression quickly fades, and he’s left weary.

“I’m trying a backdoor to their system,” Steve mutters. “Hacking’s not really my thing...”

“You’ll get it,” Thor says automatically. “I know you can.”

Steve gives his head a shake, biting his lip with determination. “This is more Tony’s thing,” he replies. “He hacked into the Pentagon for fun once.”

SHIELD might as well be the Pentagon, in terms of security strength. They’re relying on Steve to find these back channels and get in touch Fury or Hill or  _ someone _ trustworthy who can help them. “You can do it,” Thor reiterates. “How can I help?”

Steve looks over, wearing a weak smile of gratitude. “Thanks. I... I’m not sure. I don’t really know where I should look. Unfortunately, all my research is on HYDRA.... ah.” Steve stops himself and blinks at the screen.

Thor blinks at Steve. “Are you alright?”

“I know how to get in... I think.” Steve flexes his fingers, looking back and forth across the screen to plan his next move. “If HYDRA is embedded deep enough into SHIELD, then I can get in through them.”

Use HYDRA like SHIELD’s garage. Thor nods slowly, watching windows change and black boxes fill with text as Steve kicks off with more purpose.

Loki reappears with a tea tray, passing around hot mugs. Mildly curious, he glances at Steve’s screen.

“How secure is this computer?” Steve asks without looking up, already opening more windows. From what Thor can tell, he’s turning on the location of the laptop, but other than that he’s lost.

“Secure enough to do your banking on,” Loki replies. “However, it may not be secure enough for what you need it for. I’m not in the business of hacking.”

Undeterred, Steve keeps typing. “That’s okay. I can re-route through a server and run an encryption. Too bad I don’t have any of Tony’s programs...”

“Do what you must,” Loki says. “So long as my house isn’t swarmed with armed gunmen.” When Steve doesn’t respond, already absorbed back into his work like it’s all that exists, Loki shakes his head and spins around, walking back to the kitchen.

Steve is doing fine without whatever Tony would be able to provide, as far as Thor can tell, doing what he needs to secure the laptop, then starting the process of cracking HYDRA’s shell, and ultimately SHIELD’s. Thor’s not sure if he should be frightened or relieved that the two organizations have intertwined. HYDRA uprooted the rescue plan from the beginning, was never more than a few steps behind thanks to their upgrades to the SHIELD-issue radio. They’ve never been separate from this entire procedure. 

But without eyes on Steve, Steve poses a far bigger threat, needing only an internet connection to get what he wants. If any man can tear HYDRA apart, it’s Steve. What that means for SHIELD, Thor doesn’t want to think about.

_ What does that mean for me...? _ Other than cleaning rifles on the beach by his house, SHIELD is his life. Could he work somewhere else, or quit altogether? Thor can’t trust anyone else but Fury (he hopes to  _ fuck _ Fury hasn’t been playing him this whole time), and he certainly can’t get a regular job or flat-out retire. This body isn’t made for that.

It wasn’t, at least. Thor doesn’t want to think too hard about what state he’ll be in when this is over. There’s a limit to how many times surgery and rest can put you back together again.

At the very least, some rest and medicine have made him feel marginally better. His leg is still very bruised, but he can walk. The medications are already reducing his symptoms of withdrawal and pain. All his other needs are met, including food, which Loki is bringing from the kitchen. He must have bought some on the way home, because he produces boxes of hot rice covered in sauce and chicken and vegetables, with spring rolls on the side.

Loki gives Thor a fork and a spoon in place of chopsticks and opens the box for him, shoving it over. He sits down to eat his own dinner, leaning sideways on the table and folding one leg over the other. Thor says a quiet thank-you so he doesn’t distract Steve from his work, and starts to eat. He’s so hungry that he hardly pauses until half the box is empty. When he looks up, Steve is still typing, and doesn’t seem to have noticed his dinner next to him. 

Thor waits for when Steve is finished his current task and about to move on to the next, nudging him with the handle of his fork. “Steve...”

Steve looks up, then over to the take-out box beside him. He hesitates, his fingers starting move on the keyboard again.

Thor stops him. “Eat,” he orders. “This can wait a few minutes.”

With a sigh, Steve pushes the laptop away from himself and pulls his food toward him. “Thanks,” he says, opening up the top. The moment he sees the contents, hunger replaces anything else. Hurriedly, he reaches for his chop-sticks and breaks them in apart, diving right into his meal. 

They eat in relative silence until all of them are finished. Steve sighs and leans back in his chair, visibly improved for the meal. Between the nausea and the pills fighting it back, Thor’s not that hungry anymore, so he gives Steve the rest of the spring rolls, which the other man is happy to eat, glancing up only for confirmation from the brothers before devouring the extra food. Loki gets up to make some more tea.

Wiping pastry from his lips, Steve starts typing again.

\--

After a while, it becomes obvious that Steve is struggling. He’s worked hard without much rest, and despite some quiet time with Thor in bed and a hot dinner, he’s taxed. He isn’t typing as smoothly as before, making more mistakes and having to undo or re-type commands while squinting at the screen and occasionally rubbing his eyes. It takes too long for Thor to make up his mind that he should step in.

“Steve,” he says kindly. “We can finish this tomorrow morning.”

Stubbornly, Steve shakes his head. “No. I’m almost there.”

“Then you can resume in the morning,” Thor replies, taking Steve’s nearer wrist. “You need rest.” Thor needs some too, and he would like it very much if Steve joined him.

Steve capitulates with a sigh and pushes the laptop away. “You’re right...” he rubs under his glasses and gives Thor a weary smile, sliding out of his chair. “We should both go.”

Before Thor can readily agree, or even take Steve’s help to stand, Loki intercepts. “Perhaps you might like a hot shower,” he offers Steve, gesturing down the hall. “There is a bathroom and plenty of towels. Help yourself to whatever you please.”

Steve looks between the brothers, catching the hint but hesitant to retract his help until Thor gives him a nod and an encouraging smile. The moment the blonde shuts the bathroom door behind him, Loki is taking Thor’s good arm and pulling him up authoritatively. The help is much appreciated, so he doesn’t argue or resist, simply holding on to his brother’s shoulders and limping along at the allowed pace all the way to the bedroom.

Loki lets him down on the bed and sternly adjusts the pillows. He tucks Thor in sternly and leans over him, pulling both pill bottles out of his pocket and holding one in each hand. Raising the oxy a bit higher, he loses all his masks, and his displeasure is plain to see. It’s joined by the disappointment, confusion, and concern that mingle in his voice. “If I give you this, you must promise me that when the bottle is empty, you will never take another of these pills ever again.”

A scowl of Thor’s own contorts his expression, and he sits up a bit with a wince that loses itself in his anger. “Or what?” he snaps before he can stop himself, or think.

Loki slams both bottles on the nightstand. “Or else this is the last you will ever see of me. When whatever fucking mess you’ve gotten yourself into this time is over, I will never, ever speak to you again.”

“Fuck you,” Thor growls back, matching the aggression.

“Fuck you to space,” Loki snaps back. “There are people who care about you, and who don’t want to see you damage yourself like this.”

“This wasn’t my fucking fault!” Thor is on the verge of shouting, levering himself off the bed and swinging his legs around. “You think I jumped in front of a bullet on purpose?”

“No,” Loki retorts. “I think you’re too reckless, and you medicate yourself in between.”

Thor rises to defend himself, towering over his brother, despite his inability to straighten his torso  or fully lower his weight onto his sore leg. He jams his finger into Loki’s chest. “You don’t know shit about what I do, or why. I’m not that stupid. I wouldn’t ask to get shot.”

“Sit down you insufferable oaf.” Loki doesn’t back down. One firm shove to the shoulder, and Thor is flopping back on the bed with a grunt, stabilizing his injured arm. Loki goes on. “Maybe you’re not actively seeking death, certainly not with somebody who needs you, but if you were on your own, you’d be okay with it if someone made a mistake and took your head off.”

“That’s a bold fucking claim,” Thor growls lowly.

“You’re a dumb fucking idiot,” Loki spits back. “And you’re just as transparent as always. Every time I hear about you taking a shot, I wait to hear where it went, if you’re breathing on your own, at the very least have a heartbeat. I was there when you fucked up your leg the first time.”

“You barely said a word to me,” Thor says. “You practically leaned in to see if I was alive, and then you left.” He remembers that day very clearly, and it sticks out particularly because he was pretty drugged at the time of Loki’s arrival. He remembers being so pleased to see his brother, and a little surprised to hear that Fury had called him, but devastated when Loki before the day was through.

“I know, and I should have stayed.” Loki’s voice loses none of its energy. “I should have told you exactly what I’m telling you now. I should have told you to stop. I left because I knew that if you didn’t come back from your next mission, I’m not sure I could bear it.”

“I can make my own choices,” Thor doesn’t back down either. “I can do as I please.”

“ So can I,” Loki says. “And I can decide for myself that you’ve gone too far, and I no longer wish to watch you destroy yourself. You get rid of the pills, you take better care of yourself, or I go. I change numbers, and you never see me again. Because I never want the call that you’re dead.”

Thor holds his gaze. “I must complete this mission,” he argues.

It’s Loki who gives in first, letting go the slightest submissive sigh. “I know,” he replies tersely, but it’s lost some of its venomous sting. “That is why I will help you, but just this once. After that, the decision is yours.” 

There is nothing more to be said, so when Steve appears in the doorway, his hair damp, he has to walk awkwardly through the silence to the bed. “Uh... I’m not interrupting, am I?”

“Not at all,” Loki replies, lifting his chin and turning around. “I will get you something clean to wear.”

“Thank you,” Steve says. He doesn’t walk right up to Thor until their host has left.

Thor exhales, turning his legs back onto the bed and lying down. He shuts his eyes as Steve carefully adjusts him, and doesn’t open them until soft knuckles are touching his forehead. He looks up into Steve’s kind smile and warm gaze.

“Well, your fever doesn’t feel any higher,” he says quietly. “Maybe you can sleep this off.”

“Fingers crossed,” Thor smiles back. “Will you rest with me?”

“Of course.” Steve puts his hearing-aid and glasses on the nightstand, taking off his stolen polo shirt again. The burns on his torso catch Thor’s eye immediately, but he restrains himself from mentioning them – they look clean, and the surrounding bruising is healing like it should. There’s nothing to worry about. The only thing justifiably worrisome is the look in Steve’s eyes and the way he moves so haltingly. Steve is obviously itching to get into bed, but he waits until Loki comes back with a neat stack of folded clothes. “Thank you,” he says.

Loki huffs his reply and leaves briskly, shutting the door behind him.

Steve puts the clothes on the floor and takes off his pants, shutting off the light and jogging to the bed. He slithers right under the covers and huddles into Thor’s side for security, and Thor draws him in, kissing the top of his head for reassurance. He rubs a soothing thumb into Steve’s waist. “Sleep well,” he murmurs.

“Feel better,” Steve replies, laying his hand on Thor’s abs and kissing the side of his pec.

“I already do,” he promises, with a slightly larger, stronger smile that manages to push through the weight of decisions he doesn’t have long to make.

\--

When Thor wakes up, he feels groggy, and his eyelids are stuck together. He peels them apart and squints into the light, blinking furiously to adjust. Steve’s blurry figure immediately leans over him.

“What time is it?” Thor groans and rubs his eyes, shoving himself out of the pillows and up a little while Steve gets out of the chair and leaves the laptop on it.

“Almost noon,” Steve says, counting pills into his palm and offering them. “Your fever went up...”

There’s a cold cloth on his forehead. His face feels hot but his body is shivering. Thor opens his hand for the pills and puts them in his mouth, washing them down with water from the bottle Steve gives him. “Thanks...” he has another few sips.

“How you feelin’?” Steve plays his thumbs anxiously, his expression etched with concern.

Thor leaves the bottle in his lap and pulls one of Steve’s hands away to hold. He smiles as reassuringly as he can. “I’m alright,” he says, looking over at the laptop. “How are you getting on?”

“I got in touch with SHIELD,” Steve squeezes Thor’s hand remorsefully before letting go and sitting back in his chair. 

“You did?” Thor lifts his head off the pillow. “What did they say? Is Fury alive?”

“I don’t know,” Steve shrugs apologetically. “She said her name was Agent Hill. She and Tony are safe, at least. HYDRA’s got its fingers is every corner. Everything SHIELD has, they have. We have to be really careful.”

Thor sighs – SHIELD is ruined.

“HYDRA has all their resources to do with as they please.” Steve goes on, the screen reflecting off his glasses. He looks better than yesterday, but he hasn’t regained his vigor, and his typing isn’t as smooth. “And they’re doing something with it... but I really can’t crack it without Tony’s algorithms. Not in a million years.” He shakes his head and rubs his chest. “They wanted those algorithms.”

“They want you and Tony to do something for them, not just to remove you as a threat,” Thor confirms.

“Yeah... seems like it,” Steve shrugs and goes back to typing. He’s very pale, huddling into the shirt and sweater Loki has loaned him. They’re a little tight in the shoulders. He sighs and shuts the laptop. “That’s about all I can do. Most importantly, we know where to go. Loki said he can get us there.”

That  _ is _ good news. And they don’t have to steal a car, either.

“Everything will be ready soon,” Steve explains, holding up his hands and getting out of the chair. “Loki’s just getting a few things ready. Are you okay to go?” He takes the cloth off Thor’s forehead.

Thor nods without really thinking, pushing off the blankets and taking Steve’s hand. The other man helps him sit on the edge of the bed and unfolds a shirt, guiding the sleeve over Thor’s right arm first, then the left. He does up the buttons and ties the sling before kneeling to undo the fly of Thor’s pants. Steve takes them by the ankles and slides them off, feeding on a clean pair of jeans in their place. These are definitely Loki’s, because the waistband is almost too narrow to fit.

Unquestioningly, without pause for himself, Steve helps Thor get dressed, lacing up his boots and wrapping a warm sweater around his shoulders. Finally, Steve takes the pill bottles and puts them in his pocket, helping Thor to his feet and making sure he’s steady enough to stand. The sickness is making his head spin, but it clears up soon enough. Despite his stability, Thor still stays close to Steve, and they walk out of the room shoulder-to-shoulder.

Loki is already waiting for them, dressed just as sharply. There’s a gun at his hip. “This way,” he orders before anyone can say a word, marching them farther down the corridor and into a storage room. He flicks on the lights and walks straight for the dresser in the corner, opening the doors and shoving aside spare coats on hangers. Without any kind of announcement, he turns a handle at the back and slides out a whole rack. A rack covered in weapons.

_ Why the fuck do you have these? Where did you get them? _ Thor stares at the guns, then at his brother, who is calmly staring back. 

“Take what you need,” Loki offers unwaveringly. “Then we should go. The car is ready.”

Thor wants to grit out that they’ll talk about this later, but since he can’t say much given their current dispute, he keeps it to himself and clenches his jaw. Really, they need the weapons, and who knows what supplies Agent Hill will have with her. There are lots of items he’s tempted to grab, but with just one arm to rely on, he’s hesitant to lug around a rifle he’ll struggle to aim with. But he’s strong enough to keep it steady with one hand, so he decides it’s worth bringing. These are high-grade weapons, too. Thor slings the rifle to his back and selects a handgun next. Steve helps him with the belt, and he holsters it alongside some extra magazines.

To Steve, Thor holds out a gun by the barrel. “Just in case,” he orders. “You don’t have to use it. But you should be armed if things get bad.” Realism is the best approach here, even if he knows it will make Steve uncomfortable to be carrying, even if he’ll do everything he can to make sure the student never has to fire a bullet. If Thor has to take a bullet to do that, he will.

Cautiously, Steve takes the weapon, checking the safety before holding it more securely. It’s already loaded. He holsters it, and the spare rounds given.

“This too,” Thor gives him a blade in a sheathe, and Steve straps it to his leg, straightening and nudging up his glasses nervously.

Loki locks his secret stash away again and leads them out of the house to the parked car by the steps. He gets straight into the driver’s seat, while Steve helps Thor into the back. There’s food and water on the seat, which Steve immediately pushes his way purposefully. Obediently, Thor drinks, knowing his condition is bad enough as it is without adding dehydration into the mix.

\--

After not even an hour of driving in silence, even Loki can’t bear the awkwardness, and turns on the radio. Steve is in the middle seat, leaning into Thor’s side, watching the world pass by through the window. Every so often, Loki will glance back at them in the mirror with narrowed eyes, but says nothing. Driving through the countryside in a nice car with the music playing seems like the perfect time to make out, but Thor decides to save that suggestion for another day. He hopes he’ll get his chance to show Steve a good time, one that involves nice restaurants and scenic drives, long walks under sunsets and holding hands on the beach. Sex on a stormy night. Thor will take Steve to one of his favorite cities during thunderstorm season and fuck him to the sound of lightning.

It’s something to look forward to, something Thor’s never had at the end of his mission, aside from a paycheck. At the end of this, Steve may decide he doesn’t want anything to do with Thor, but Thor puts all that aside and enjoys his fantasy while he can. Meanwhile, Steve leans into his ribs, quiet and thoughtful. Nobody has anything to say.

Loki has always been the clever, well-spoken brother, so when he has to drive on and off the ferry to cross the English Channel, he doesn’t run into trouble. Despite packing serious heat (which may not even be legal in England) into another country, they get through without a hassle.

Just like that, they’re in France. Steve sits up and slides over to the other window so he can look out at the scenery better. There’s no time for scenic routes, but Steve seems content with what’s available, admiring old buildings mixed with new ones. Thor hopes Steve can immerse himself in the sight-seeing and forget about everything else – Thor and Loki have their eyes out for enemies. So far, their tail is clean, but Thor doesn’t let his guard down.

Loki nimbly navigates traffic, pulling down a side-road and into an alley, where he parks and gets out. Steve gets out too, and comes round to help. They take their weapons with them, and walk around the nose of the car to the man-hole cover a few feet away. Loki lifts it off and peers down before climbing inside. Thoe goes next, and Steve follows, sliding the cover over them. Ambient light at the bottom of the shaft is enough to see by, and they all make it down safely.

They’ve arrived by the tracks of the metro, on a service walkway that follows beside it. Loki turns on his phone light and guides the way, making sure the path is flat enough. Steve takes up the rear, watching the shadows vigilantly. Thor watches too, resting his hand on his gun. If he has to, he can spin around and shove Steve behind him.

But that’s not necessary, because other than a couple of trains that pass by (at which point Loki douses the light, in the event that they become a ghost-sighting), they’re alone. All of them walk as quietly as they can through the echoing tunnels, on the look-out for enemies.

When the fire escape door opens just ahead, all three of them stop, Thor settling into a solid battle stance, ready to draw his gun and protect Steve. Loki has one hand on his gun, too.

It’s not the enemy that steps out, but Agent Hill, her hand on her gun too. They’re only staring each other down for a moment, until she’s beckoning them inside with a hasty gesture. The trio hurries through the door, and she shuts it behind them. Flood lights guide their path as Hill leads them up a flight of stairs, through another service door, and into a large service room that looks mostly forgotten.

Forgotten apart from the corner which has been entirely repurposed, filled with plastic fold-out tables arranged with half a dozen monitors, two computer towers, a couple of comfy chairs, and two mattresses in the corner. There’s a cooler and some other supplies in the opposite corner, where it looks like food and other essentials are being kept. In one of the chairs, amidst the computing supplies, is a man. The man whirls and stands, immediately noticing Steve and taking a shaky step forward.

“Steve...”

“Tony.” Steve abandons them and runs past Hill, colliding with the smaller man and clinging on tight. Tony does the same, squeaking and patting his friend on the back.

“Ease up, big guy...”

“Sorry,” Steve lets go bashfully and inspects him. “God... Are you okay?”

“We ran into a little trouble,” Tony shrugs, looking back at Hill and noticing the brothers. “HYDRA was on their way to get us, but we escaped just in time and set up shop here instead. Turns out SHIELD’s got safe houses everywhere, so a lot of this stuff was already here.” Thor wonders how many of these monitors they managed to bring with them, but he doesn’t doubt some of this food and bedding was stored away before-hand.

“HYDRA is inside SHIELD,” Steve blurts, quickly losing his enthusiasm. “Hell, it basically  _ is _ SHIELD at this point... We might not be safe here.”

“We’re safe,” Hill steps in, commanding and calm as always, alert but underwhelmed. “This isn’t a SHIELD safe-house – this is mine. More of a dungeon than an office, but it’ll do.”

They all relax a little at that. Tony grabs Steve by the arm to pull him over to his set-up. “The connection is great down here,” he explains, pointing at the monitors, which are covered in security feeds showing various points through the metro. “I hacked into the city surveillance systems. Anything the city has eyes on, I’ve got. We’ll be safe.”

“Wow... you were busy,” Steve admires his friend’s work.

“And we can get a lot more done now that you’re here,” Tony grins, nudging the other chair toward him. “Come on. There’s work to do.”

Steve’s already pausing and looking back at Thor by the time Hill interjects. “Whoa there,” she says, “let’s let everyone settle first.” Her gaze casts to Thor as well. “We should let them rest a little, and we can get everyone up to speed before we get back to work.”

This is a very good idea, and everybody agrees, even Tony, who though eager to get to work, sees reason. Hill leads them over to the beds and Steve takes Thor by the arm, escorting him to it. Thor sits as directed, and Steve sits beside him, counting another dose of pills. Hill offers a bottle of water.

Everyone gathers around, Loki standing to one side to listen, while Hill stands over them and Tony wheels over on his desk chair. “HYDRA is massing an attack,” Hill explains. “We know that much, but since you met up with Fury and some other agents, we’ve made no progress. As far as we know, our only resources are in this room.”

That may seem disparaging, and it really should be, but Thor finds comfort in the fact; before now, it’s just been him and Steve. They’ll take any help they can get.

If Steve is a rambler, then Tony is worse.  _ Far _ worse. He sets off on his own explanations, staring right at Steve without bothering to address anyone else. “I did everything I could without you,” he says. “But there are some layers of HYDRA’s system that would crack a lot easier with you putting some pressure on them too. I dug up a lot of data, and my algorithms are working on deciphering it, but if we knew where to send them more accurately, that would be a big help.”

All of that means something to Steve, who rubs his chin thoughtfully. “I’ll take a look.”

“Dinner first,” Hill interjects, “then you can get started.”

Everyone is eager to get back to work, but at the mention of food they give in to their bodily needs and sink farther into their seats. Even Loki perks up, lifting his head slightly. Thor isn’t that hungry himself, but he takes the banana and protein bar handed to him, and a thick slice of bread. It’s fresh and delicious, even though he doesn’t have much appetite.

“You should rest while you can,” Steve offers quietly, while everyone else is busying themselves with dinner. He pleads so well with his eyes. How difficult would it be to turn Steve down if Thor really wanted to?

He sighs. “Perhaps,” he agrees, wincing as he stretches out his leg and rolls his ankle. His knee isn’t popping or crunching, which is nice, but whatever he tore or pulled over the course of this mission, it’s still giving him trouble. But it won’t bench him, and neither will his shoulder. They need all the help they can get, and without any other agents around they can trust, he needs to be ready to fight. That’s of course if Steve and Tony can’t take down HYDRA from here, which seems possible. Even though he despises staying still for too long, Thor feels too weary to do much. And Steve is already helping him lie back and get comfortable, moving down to take off his boots.

Steve’s hand lays across his forehead. “Sleep,” he whispers, and kisses Thor’s forehead. “That’s an order.”

Thor gives a mock salute, his eyes already closed, and drops off.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you hack the world?

It’s hard to focus on his work with Thor just over his shoulder, breathing through his mouth. At least Loki is there to take care of him while the rest of them keep working, sat cross-legged on the mattress by his brother’s legs. Agent Hill is taking inventory of their supplies and checking her phone every so often. Steve looks back at Thor’s flushed face.

A hand waves in front of him, and Tony inserts himself into Steve’s field of vision. “Eyes up front, pal. We’ve got work to do.”

“Sorry,” Steve shakes his head to clear it and rakes back his forelock, focusing on his screen. Where was he...?

“Have some water,” Tony thrusts a bottle at him. “You look like you’ve been through the ringer.”

Steve smiles a little and takes the bottle. “Kinda,” he agrees quietly. “We ran into some trouble getting here.”  _ But we’re here now, and that’s what matters. I’m fine, and Thor will be fine too. Everybody's going to be okay, and I can help make sure of that by doing my part. _ He drinks some water and takes a harder look at the screen, making a conscious effort to re-board his train of thought.

“You okay?” Tony is perched on the edge of his seat, peering at him like a hawk. Tony knows him too well.

“Just tired,” Steve sighs. “And worried.”

“About him?” Tony angles his head toward Thor’s huge body slumbering under the blanket.

_ Busted. _ Steve can’t help the blush that creeps into his cheeks as he smiles guiltily. “Yeah... He got me out.”  _ Twice. And that’s just from chairs I was tied to, not counting the other altercations we’ve gotten ourselves into these past few days... He should have left me. He should be in a hospital. _

Tony leans his elbow on the plastic table and rests his cheek in his palm, grinning slyly. “Got you out of the clutches of evil, or got you out of your plague of single-ness?  Cus he’s definitely your type. Desperate times, desperate measures, right? Please tell me you guys banged. Like a screen door in a h-”

“Tony!” Steve blushes deeper. “Why does everyone keep asking me that!”

“’ Cus he’s hot,” Tony shrugs, completely unapologetic. “I mean, he’s not my type, but if I had to pick a guy.”

Steve’s not exactly shy about his sexuality, but he didn’t realize he was that obvious either. Then again, he didn’t know a man like Thor existed either, so he never accounted for this situation.  _ Desperate times, desperate measures, yeah... _ Is he really just attracted to Thor because he’s scared? Have they shared intimate moments because he’s afraid he’ll die, and this is his only chance, his only outlet for this terror inside him? He looks back at Thor’s sleeping face, and immediately doubts that this is all some kind of twisted defense mechanism for the trauma he’s survived – he wants to know more. He wants more than lustful kisses and sexual encounters in hotel rooms. Those things were good, but he wants more. He wants to know the man inside the body, a man with a character as strong as his physique.

There’s no need to go into the details of what they got up to, but for Tony’s enjoyment he returns the grin. “We did make out,” he says. “And do... other things.”

“Good man,” Tony claps him on the shoulder. “You’ve been in a dry spell for way too long. Trust you to break it while being chased by the baddest bad guys to ever bad instead of meeting a guy at a bar like a normal person.”

Trust Tony to know how to break the tension. Steve can’t help but maintain his smile while he gives a long-suffering shake of his head. “Speaking of, we should get to work.”

“Says you,” Tony grins triumphantly. “So  how’s it going?”

Steve looks back at his screen, and suddenly he can remember where he was, and what he was in the middle of. “I’m looking for the right breach point,” he explains. “Once I’ve found that, we can use your algorithm to crack through the security barrier and get some more data. I should be able to find the encryption key with one more piece. HYDRA makes really good passwords.”

“Preach it,” Tony agrees solemnly.

“But not as good as your algorithms,” Steve adds as he types another few  lines of code and enters the command. “No wonder they want you so badly.”

“If they want me and not you too, they’re pretty stupid,” Tony remarks, getting back to his own portion of the work. “You know I can’t do this without you.”

“You could,” Steve argues. “You’ve got your algorithms.”

“They aren’t worth shit if I don’t know where to use them,” Tony bats back. “You’re the man with a plan. That’s why  we‘ re a team.”

“I can’t do this without you either,” Steve counters. “At least not in a human lifespan.”

“We’d better get to work then,” Tony holds out his fist. “This isn’t a lab project anymore.”

This is for real, with lives at stake, and the enemy on their tail ready to torture and kill whoever they need to get what they want. Steve bumps his fist with Tony’s, and they both leave their jovial banter behind for determination and focus.

\--

Completely unaware to how the others spend their time, Steve gets back to work, and blocks away the world. The sooner this is over, the sooner they can all go home. After hours of work, he finds his in, and Tony sets his algorithm to the weak spot. They both step away from their work for a break.

Steve tucks his glasses in his shirt and rubs his eyes, squeezing his temples to alleviate his headache. When he looks over, Thor is still asleep. Loki is in the middle of undressing him to inspect his shoulder. Abandoning his weariness, Steve runs over to help, Tony hovering over his shoulder. They do their best to stay quiet so they don’t unnecessarily wake Thor up in the middle of his inspection.

Loki is much more relaxed now that his brother isn’t conscious. He slowly turns Thor’s arm to the side and pulls off the gauze stained with patches of red and pink. “I need better light,” he says without looking up, and Hill instantly gives over her phone. Steve takes it and turns on the light, getting to his knee and holding it steady. Thor’s eyebrows wobble in his sleep, and he makes a small whining sound as his wound is disturbed. The skin looks more inflamed than it did yesterday, and is persistently leaking fluid. Steve thinks he sees a hint of white inside the mess of red.

“Those look like abscesses,” Loki announces grimly. “I need a knife and something to sterilize this with. And some clean dressings.”

“Here,” Agent Hill already has a black bag in-hand, kneeling by Loki and unzipping it. She hands him a scalpel and a bottle of alcohol. 

Clearly, Loki has no intent on letting anyone else too close to his brother, but Thor isn’t likely to stay sleeping for very long. Steve hands the flashlight off to Tony and proactively gets himself into a good position to restrain and comfort Thor as needed, pulling his friend’s head into his lap. They’ve barely started, and Thor is already starting to wake up, albeit a lot slower than usual. His face is glistening under the light and he’s shivering, his skin slick and warm.

This will be the third round of unqualified ‘surgery’ Thor’s had to endure, and Steve can’t help but wonder if he did something wrong when he dug part of that bullet out. Did he not clean everything properly? Did he make something worse? Reasonably, the infection could have been caused by so many other things, by their fall in the muddy ditch, or while Thor was captive to HYDRA, or when they ended up in the Thames.

Loki soaks the scalpel in alcohol and approaches the wound, just as undaunted about treating his own brother as before. Thor is already starting to move, his eyelids blinking open and his hazy eyes looking around as he tries to figure out what’s going on. The blade is already inside the wound, and Steve holds on tight, adjusting his position so he can wrap his arm around Thor’s chest.

Thor doesn’t fight them very much, and he doesn’t make much noise either as Loki cleans out his shoulder. But when Steve takes his hand, he squeezes it tightly back. The others watch in silence, ready to help if they can. As Loki wipes off the scalpel and dabs some mixture of fluids away, Thor turns his head to look. “No,” Steve says, propping Thor a bit higher up his chest and putting his head between Thor’s and his shoulder. “Don’t look. Deep breaths.”

Thor shuts his eyes and rests his head ear-to-ear with Steve’s, taking the deepest, slowest breaths he can. They come out shaky, and it’s no doubt painful if the discoloration along his ribs is anything to go by. Even Agent Hill comes closer and kneels down so she can wrap her hand around Thor’s ankle. Loki keeps working, stoic enough not to stall as he continues to drain the wound. It’s not a long-term solution, especially since they don’t have any blood-work to determine the severity and the spread of the infection, but it’s still necessary, and Loki does a thorough job. He flushes the wound out with water from a fresh bottle and dabs the site dry, taping some more gauze over top.

Regardless of their company, Steve kisses Thor’s bristled cheek as they all let out a sigh. Thor shivers, his abs contracting with tremors. Softening, Loki comes closer and rests the back of his hand on his brother’s forehead, holding it there for a moment. He looks weary all of a sudden, and lost, but it all vanishes under that thick layer of sternness as Thor opens his eyes again. Loki snatches the damp cloth from Agent Hill’s hand and pushes it into his brother’s forehead, standing up briskly to clean his hands.

Tony mutely shuts off the flashlight and gives Hill her phone back, staring down at the pair. He’s a shade paler. “Do you need anything? Uh, here,” he’s already moving, getting another water bottle and taking off the top. Steve lets go of Thor’s good hand and guides it around the bottle, to which Thor perks up a little and holds it, taking a sip, then another, then a few more thirsty gulps. Tony takes back the bottle, but lingers worriedly.

Steve rests his hand over Thor’s chest. “Deep breaths,” he urges. “A few more. The last thing you need is a lung infection.” He props Thor up a little higher and rubs soothing circles into his chest.

Now that the pain has settled and he’s not being prodded, Thor has a much easier time drawing in deep, smooth breaths. He sinks into Steve’s embrace and keeps up those deliberate ins and outs until he looks like he’s about to drift off again. “Got good bedside manner,” he murmurs.

At that, Tony sits on the floor beside them, leaning on his elbow and smiling. “I know, right? Annoyingly so. Don’t ever catch a cold around him, or he’ll force-feed you a whole jar of honey and a box of mint tea. You won’t be able to smell anything but mint for weeks.”

“I got tired of you breathing so loudly through your mouth,” Steve retorts in good humor, adjusting his position to be more comfortable without ceasing the slow massage he’s applying to Thor’s sternum. “That tea cleared your sinuses.”

“I can take care of myself,” Tony huffs, his grin still in place.

“You were insufferable!” Steve laughs.

“It’s not my fault you’re more responsible than me! You’ve got a nurse for a mom!”

“Mint tea isn’t exactly a prescription drug,” Steve reasons. “Everybody knows that tea is the perfect drink when you’re sick. And orange juice.”

“God, I hate you sometimes,” Tony rolls his eyes. “I can’t believe you’re not sick of tea and orange juice and fucking chicken noodle soup the number of times you’ve been sick.”

“My mom makes really good chicken noodle soup.”

“I know, you force-fed me that, too.”

Steve grins. “But it worked, didn’t it?”

“ _ Medication _ worked,” Tony argues.

“Medication, and TLC,” Steve counters, “which is medically proven to be effective.”

“Whatever you say, Doctor Rogers.”

“It does have a good ring to it,” Steve agrees quietly, looking down at Thor slumped in his grip. The other man has passed out again, breathing deeply through his nose. There’s a faint smile on his lips still unraveling as the muscles in his face relax. Steve carefully slips from under Thor’s torso and lays him down, bending down to kiss him gently on the lips. Thor’s smile spreads a little, and he mumbles something under his breath, but he doesn’t wake up. Solemnly, Steve makes sure his friend is comfortable and pulls the blankets to his ribs, adjusting his injured arm across his belly. At least Thor’s fingers are a good color and temperature, which means he’s still getting circulation.

“You want to stay with him?” Tony asks quietly.

“We should get back to work,” Steve says, standing up and glancing at Loki who is lingering on the sidelines. Thor won’t be alone. He’ll have somebody to fuss over him. They need to get him into a hospital before the infection spreads and kills him. For Thor’s sake, Steve hopes the worst of the infection has been cleared out, but optimism just isn’t practical.

Tony guides him to the computers and pushes a chair his way, patting him reassuringly on the back. Though it’s not as strong as he hoped, Steve’s smile is genuine. “Come on, pal,” Tony says, “Let’s save the world.”

\--

In a few minutes, they’re back in the rhythm, and despite the lighting, this feels close enough like working with Tony in the lab back home that he can focus. Knowing Loki is looking after Thor helps too. Hill joins in to give access codes where she can, and speed up the process. Sometimes they can access HYDRA through SHIELD, and other times the opposite way, depending on what they need. Everything is so tightly connected, which is working to their advantage no matter how worrisome that is.

Hill is practical throughout, but even she is displaying some worry as HYDRA and SHIELD blend deeper and deeper into one, to the point where they can longer separate one from the other. 

Tony is running his algorithms as efficiently as he can with the processors they have, trying to borrow power from other networks nearby to chisel down the time. Together, they’re tearing HYDRA apart layer by layer, inching closer to finding the information they need. There are clues hidden all through the massive spiderweb of information, which Steve is steadily compiling into a picture as Tony cracks another piece. Without their years of research and experience with this exact organization, it would take a lot longer. Steve is so used to HYDRA’s methods of encryption, that it doesn’t take him long to figure out the key.

They take a dinner and a nap break, but everybody is too restless to sleep for long. Except for Thor, who only wakes up when he’s roused, drinking some water and eating some food before taking his pills and falling right back to sleep. His fever is unrelenting, but at least it’s not dangerous. Not yet.

Steve takes his nap under Thor’s good arm, curled into the other man’s side. It’s the only way he can shut his eyes without feeling like HYDRA will snatch him away in the darkness. Loki doesn’t bother him, crossing his arms and shutting his eyes to take a quick nap for himself. Tony collapses on the other bed, pressing his leg into Steve. They all sleep while Hill keeps watch on the surveillance tapes.

There is no night or day down here; Steve wakes up with no concept of how long he slept. Thor is still at his side, panting and damp, but unchanged. He opens his eyes as Steve stirs and looks over, blinking away his disorientation. “Steve...” he rasps. “How... how’s it going?”

Steve sits up and puts his glasses back on, pushing back his bangs. “We’re making headway,” he says. “How are you feeling?”

“Ow...” Thor tries to sit himself up. Loki is already awake and putting the bottle of water to his lips. Thor takes it and drinks.

“You feel ow,” Steve smiles. “Fair enough.”

“You should move around,” Loki says, looping the sling over his brother’s head and resting his arm in it.

“Come on, I’ll show you what we’ve been working on,” Steve suggests. It’s always easier to go for a walk if you have a destination.

Thor nods, rubbing his eyes to clear them and looping his arm around Steve’s neck, pushing to his feet. He’s very unsteady, and he needs Loki to help balance him too, but once he gets his  bearings he’s alright enough to limp slowly over to the computers with the other two ready to catch him. Steve grabs a chair and positions it so Thor can sink back, nursing his arm as he stares up at the computer screens.

Tony jogs over to help lay out all the open windows that serve as a map for their work. His algorithms are running on the last few codes to crack, while Steve is piecing together  everything they uncover that might relate to HYDRA’s end goal. The word document is pages and pages long. Thor stares across the many screens with awe, leaping from one application to the next and not appearing to process much of it. Then again, Steve’s sure most people would react similarly.

Steve about to explain the basis of their search process and accessing the deeper layers of the network, but Tony reaches out and smacks his arm. “Steve, we cracked the last piece,” he gestures to the screen, already copying the decrypted text for Steve to paste into his document.

As far as they know, as far as they’ve searched, they’ve gutted HYDRA’s system and dumped their plans right into this word document.

That last piece of text however (which is by no-means short) looks suspiciously familiar. The commands, the layout, Tony’s distinct coding style. Steve looks over with alarm, but Tony is already staring with horror at the text he’s just decoded. “That’s my algorithm,” he breathes. “That’s my algorithm!” Frantically they both look down at the pop-up that was just displaying their decryption progress, only to find the progress bar has been replaced with the words ‘download 8/8 complete’.

Tony has 8 algorithms on that USB, the USB he’s ripping out of the PC tower as fast as he can. It’s too late. The screens are flickering, all their windows closing one by one as the connection to HYDRA’s servers are lost. All but the Word document.

“They got them...” Tony grabs his hair. “They got them! Steve!”

Steve stares at the text at the bottom of the word document blankly, uncertain how he should feel. Everything else is closed except that one lonely window – well, there is another one open, a command prompt filling up with new lines of text as someone on the other end types;  _ 'Hail HYDRA’, _ and none of them want to read it out-loud.

It’s all gone. Tony is already trying to bring back the windows they lost, typing frantically as he searches for a way back in, but there’s just... nothing. No trace, vanished like a daydream or a magic trick. But this isn’t smoke and mirrors – Steve makes his own effort, trying to make a connection through whoever is typing through the command prompt, but he finds none.

“Fuck...” Tony whispers. “Fuck, fuck.”

Steve clenches his jaw so hard it hurts, switching screens and bringing up their surveillance systems with a racing heart. He half expects the metro and the streets above to be teeming with enemies, but everything looks normal. Is it proof that HYDRA doesn’t know their location? No. But without anywhere to go, there’s no point in leaving just yet. Steve shoves up his glasses and opens his word document, scrolling to the top.

HYDRA writes letters in excellent euphemistic language, full of sub-text and secret coding. Phrases that seem innocuous actually refer to sinister acts, targets are given distinguishing nicknames, often derogatory or overtly romanticized as if to be patronizing. At least HYDRA is consistent. There are hundreds of letters, too many for Steve to read, but he’s looking for patterns, not individual words. He’s looking for threads, for names and places that repeat themselves in the conversation. Maybe this is all they need. Maybe there never was that last puzzle piece that would unlock everything – if there is, there’s not much chance of getting it anyway.

As far as Steve can tell, there isn’t much in common between any of these letters. Some of them are more like office memos than actual letters, and no topic is repeated more than a few times.

“Help me,” Steve orders, copying his window and sending the document to Tony’s monitor.

“Here,” Hill offers, holding up her phone. “Send it to me.”

Steve does so without hesitation. “We’re looking for patterns,” he explains. Computers are excellent at looking for patterns, so Steve pulls up the word counter, disregarding prepositions and  conjunctions . None of the percentages are high enough for him to find a common theme among the documents. 

“This is common formatting for SHIELD documents...” Hill mentions, shaking her head as she scrolls through her own copy. “But... we don’t format dates like that. Actually, I’ve never seen a date written out that way before.”

Immediately, everybody looks to inspect the date at the top of the  page they’re currently reading.

“That’s not a date,” Tony says. “That’s an IP address.”

Steve scrolls and looks through the rest of the document, and sure enough, most of the dates are IP addresses. Both he and Tony have seen enough of these to recognize parts of the numbers instantly, and these numbers link to places all over the world. But they aren’t permanent keys to accessing a computer – no, these are targets, targets which were locked onto the moment these messages were received. Steve looks back at his list of commons words, many of which are synonyms, or at least closely related: ‘shopping’, ‘browsing’, ‘buying’, and similar. “Tony... how many computers could your algorithms hack at once?” Steve asks.

“As many as you want,” Tony replies. “It’s the processor that matters. The more powerful the computer, the more copies of the algorithms you can run.”

“When you hacked the pentagon, what did you use?” Steve fears the answer, which isn’t helped by the way Tony is staring at him.

“A prototype,” Tony replies. “It was... I polished it after, for sure. That’s what they took. Oh fuck...”

“Okay,” Steve holds out his hands. “Okay, calm down.”

“How the fuck am I supposed to calm down!” Tony grabs the table for support. “They’re going to hack the world, and it’s my fault!”

“Nobody is going to hack the world,” Steve grabs Tony’s shoulders to steady him. “Listen to me! They won’t, and it’s definitely not your fault!”

“ _ Our _ fault!” Tony gestures blindly.

“No!” Steve squeezes firmly. “Tony, no. Even with your algorithms, nothing is instant. We have time – even if they have the most powerful computer in the world, it would  takes some time to hack into all those computers. They’re probably very high-security, too, which means extra time on the clock for us. And, the IP address is just a location, not the key you just plug your codes into.”

“They’ve been collecting those targets for ages!” Tony argues, his pallor flooding with pink as he works himself into a panic. “They’re set up for this! That’s why they wanted the algorithms now! They were ready!”

“It still takes time!” Steve argues right back. “You know this. And you also know that just because you have the code doesn’t mean you have all the answers. You  _ just _ told me that, that you needed me to make those programs work. They aren’t an instant fix, even if HYDRA is ready to apply them the  second they got them.” It’s not over.

“Then what do we do?” Tony begs, leaning into Steve’s grip. “Steve, what the fuck do we do?”

Strangely, Steve suddenly feels very calm. It washes over him, dulling the alarm bells inside his head and organizing his thoughts. He looks over, and everybody else is staring at him too. Loki, Hill, and Thor with his waiting, confident eyes, clear of haze and blue like a sunbeam shining through a rolling wave. Steve addresses all of them. “We manual override,” he says. “You can’t access the internet if you don’t have power. We find the plug, and we pull it.”

And where is HYDRA based? Which has become one with SHIELD and consumed it, while slowly eating it from the inside? Where is the perfect place to work in secret, but right in the belly of an intelligence agency? “SHIELD has powerful processors,” Hills joins in. “One of the most powerful computer systems in the world.”

Eat the host, claim the shell as your home. That home is just a ferry ride away. “ So all we have to do is cut power to the building,” Steve reasons.

“SHIELD has back-up power installed,” Hill replies somewhat apologetically. “You’ll need to unplug it from the server room. There are protocols in place to dump data onto other servers in other smaller SHIELD servers throughout the world, or on the net where it can be retrieved again, but if we destroy the London servers, we should be able to prevent most of it from getting out. That’s if they haven’t already backed everything up.”

“We can track the rest of it down,” Steve nods firmly. “Whatever gets out, we can destroy all of it. The main thing is we stop them from hacking into all these systems.” It doesn’t matter what HYDRA wants, only that they’re stopped. “We need to get back into SHIELD.”

“Then it’s a good thing you’ve got two SHIELD agents right here,” Hill stands a bit taller. Thor grunts his agreement, shoving his chair back and standing as tall as he’s able.

“I’ve got a car,” Loki adds. “And I can  acquire whatever supplies we need.”

They’ll infiltrate HYDRA right back. Steve can’t help a smile, even though it may be premature.

“So... HYDRA’s not hacking the world.” Tony is looking up at him, his breathing still ragged, though he’s trying to keep himself together.

“Not if you hack them first,” Steve grins.

“Done it a million times,” Tony finds a smile of his own, albeit it weathered with uncertainty. “What’s one more?”

“That’s the spirit,” Steve squeezes his friend’s shoulder and looks back at the others.

“Sounds like we need a plan,” Hill remarks.

“I guess so...” Steve agrees, taking inventory of their team. It’s not much, but honestly, it’s probably everything they need. They have weapons, they have people who know the SHIELD base inside and out, and they have brains to make this thing work. Even Loki looks ready to join in, despite holding no stakes in this other than the life of his brother. He has no wealth or security to lose from HYDRA winning, as far as Steve is aware.

“Is everybody in?” Hill looks around at all of them, but nobody turns her down, each one meeting her gaze without hesitation. Tony too, who straightens up and turns to face her, making a visible effort to recover. “Good,” she says. “Then let’s save the world.”

“So, uh, no pressure,” Tony adds with a dry smile.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone with siblings knows that you sometimes want to punch them. 
> 
> Thanks for the feedback as always y'alls B) ya boi is back with some good ol' fightin'.

“Are you ready?” Loki asks, holding up a pair of handcuffs. 

Thor nods and moves his arm off his chest. It’s very weak and stiff, the smallest motion grinding something inside his shoulder joint. The muscles are so pulverized that Steve has to help him open his arm. Steve takes his wrist and slowly bends the elbow a few times before the stiffness is worked away, where Thor can straighten his arm on his own. Steve helps him turn his shoulder the bare minimum to get his hand behind his back so that it can be cuffed to the other. It hurts a lot, but he grits his teeth and bears it.

The weight of his arm pulling unsupported on his shoulder, plus the slightly twisted angle increases the base level of pain he had already gotten used to. But, it’s bearable thanks to his own strength and the fresh dose of meds he’s just taken. Thor leans on the hood of the car and watches Loki cuff Steve next. 

“Got everything?” Hill asks. “Weapons?” 

“Check,” Loki agrees; there’s a semi-automatic at his hip and the rifle slung over his shoulder, plus numerous other spare weapons hidden on his person. 

“Radios?” 

“Check,” Loki pats his pocket where the other three receivers are. 

“USB?” 

“Got it,” Steve nods. 

“And you know where you’re going?” 

“Yes,” Loki says, while the other two nod – Thor knows this building top-to-bottom, and Steve has an excellent memory. 

“Good,” Hill regards her makeshift agents. “Then good luck. We expect to hear from you in half an hour or less.” 

“Good luck,” Tony echoes, offering them a salute. “Be careful.” 

“You too,” Steve agrees. 

It’s time to part ways. Thor sinks into his limp more heavily than he needs to and really leans off of Loki when his brother takes his good arm. Loki grabs Steve as well, and leads them in the direction of the London base. It’s not far to walk from the car, a blessing for Thor’s vastly limited physical threshold, but he has to admit it’s nice to stretch out after hours spent in the car to get here. 

Steve looks very nervous, but his jaw is firm and his eyes fixed ahead. Thor’s never met a braver man. However, the moment the back door and the HYDRA guards beside it are in view, Steve’s demeanor completely changes, so much so that Thor wonders which is the mask. Slumped and defeated, Steve stumbles along with less grace than before, while Loki leads them triumphantly to the gates of hell. 

The guards stand to attention at the sight of the trio, raising their weapons suspiciously. “Are you the one who contacted us?” one asks. 

“That I am,” Loki says, looking in mild disgust at the weapons aimed cautiously at him. “You supervisor is waiting for me, and I would rather you not keep him nor myself waiting.” 

“Of course, sir,” the guards respond to Loki’s tone as if a spell has been cast on them, opening the side door and allowing their guests inside. They lower their weapons, but hold them with ready fingers as one takes the lead and the other follows up behind, radioing their superior that the prisoners have arrived on-schedule and are on their way up. Thor keeps his head down while keeping track of where they’re headed, and how well-armed their entourage is. Two more guards join them, and the procession carries through the building that used to be a safe place. Now, it’s crawling with HYDRA like they always owned this. Maybe they always did. How many times has Thor’s work benefited them? There’s no way of knowing. Maybe everything he’s ever done for SHIELD has only ever benefited HYDRA, and he hasn’t ever saved anyone worth saving. 

That can’t be true, because he saved Steve, and Steve is undoubtedly worth saving. Steve can’t be the only one. 

“Amazing that you managed to capture these men on your own,” one of the agents in the lead mentions as they walk toward the elevator. “We’ve been trying to take these two down for days, and they simply will not die or surrender.” 

“Perhaps I got lucky,” Loki calmly replies. “It was a simple trap. They made a mistake, got cocky, and I caught their slip-up. Or perhaps you simply are not as good at your job as it would seem.” 

_Careful, Loki._ Thor listens carefully to their four tour guides, to their breathing and tones of voices as they reply. Grips on weapons are tightened, but the leader just laughs. “Bold of you to take that attitude here,” he says, but Thor catches that not-so-subtle warning. 

“It is often the overconfident who fail,” Loki isn’t fazed, nor does he back down. “But you have your prize now. I expect to be well compensated. Frankly I’m surprised you had this much trouble apprehending them with the shape they’re in.” 

And, they’re here, right at the place they agreed upon. Loki whips out his leg and trips Steve, who goes down with a grunt and a convincing yelp while Loki laughs to keep up the illusion. The other agents jump, but they quickly join in the chuckling. Thor tears away from his brother and protectively hovers over Steve, turning to face the agents as they come over to haul the prisoners to their feet. According to plan, Steve rolls onto his back and kicks the legs from under the agent who approaches him, knocking him down. The blonde quickly rolls out of the way while Thor kicks down a man of his own and moves away too so Loki has a clear shot from behind the group. Thor hops to his feet and kicks a man in the stomach before he can draw his weapon, and Loki finishes him off. One more shot, and the fourth man falls. Loki slings the rifle back over his shoulder and helps Steve to his feet, handing him the key to the cuffs. All three of them hurry into a room, Loki dragging the bodies after them and locking the door behind them. 

In the dim light, Steve steps over his wrists to get them in front, working the key into the lock. The cuffs fall off, and he gets Thor’s off next. Immediately, Steve guides his injured arm across his chest, then bends down to help Loki salvage supplies from the bodies. 

They get a vest each, and Steve helps Thor get his on first, quietly tightening the straps. Loki distributes weapons, and Steve wordlessly holsters a gun and straps a knife to his leg. Curiously, Thor tests his arm, wondering if he can gear up on his own. Most importantly, his right hand has good grip. Without moving his shoulder, he straightens his arm and holds the belt against his hips, twisting to grab the other end with his left and draw it around his waist. He does up the clasp and straightens it, sliding his gun into the holster. _I can do this._ Nobody tried to stop him from coming, but Thor wonders how well he’d be able to convince them he’s able-bodied enough if they had. The medication is helping, but it’s not working as well as it could if he were resting like he should be. Though his fever isn’t dangerous, it is making his head spin when he gets up too fast, and he feels like his headache has lasted days. It probably has. 

Thor manages to strap on the rest of his weapons by himself, careful and strategic with his arm. By the time he’s done, Steve is approaching, pulling a folded piece of cloth from his pocket and shaking it out. “Here,” he offers, taking Thor’s right wrist and guiding it to the opposite side of his chest. Steve wraps the fabric around Thor’s back and ties it in a firm knot, securing his arm in place. “How’s that?” Steve looks up for approval. 

His arm is held out of the way, but he can slide it free or cut the sling if he has to. “Good,” he nods his thanks and squeezes Steve’s shoulder, clenching his right hand to reassure himself that if he really needs it, he can force his arm to be of some use. 

Steve looks scared, which is reassuring in some ways, but makes Thor want to find him somewhere safe to hide until everything is over. Since he can’t do that, he wraps his fingers around the back of Steve’s head and threads them through his soft hair, drawing them together and kissing his lips. Steve is trying not to lean into him too much, but can’t help shudder needily into their connection, desperate to be brought anywhere other than here. 

“At ease,” Thor murmurs. “Everything will be alright.” 

“You got that right,” Steve agrees. 

“I have faith in your abilities, and in your strength.” 

“Oh yeah?” Steve smiles a little. “Well, me too. In yours, I mean.” 

“Then how can we fail?” Thor smiles and kisses Steve’s forehead. 

Loki aggressively loads the rifle, and the blondes look over to see him waiting by the door. “Are you done?” 

“Ready,” Thor nods, striding to his brother and drawing his own gun. 

“You want the rifle?” 

“You had better take it,” Thor reasons. 

Loki looks left and right through the window. “Let’s get on with this, then.” He pulls the earpieces out of his pocket and hands them out. 

Steve pushes his in, taking the drive from his pocket and walking over to the laptop on the desk. Thor stands at his side, ready to provide back-up to Loki if they’re found, but needing to stay close to Steve. As if this were his own computer, Steve gets through the password block in a matter of seconds and opens the command prompt, pushing his USB into a port and firing up what he needs. Steve barely looks at the keyboard as he types a series of commands into the black box, initiating a secure and secret download onto HYDRA’s computer system. Stealth will be key here, making sure they disconnect those servers manually before HYDRA realizes or any automatic protocols can kick in. Whatever HYDRA is up to cannot leave this building. 

“Okay, I’ve transferred control of the building to Tony,” Steve explains, pulling out the USB and shutting down the computer once he’s wiped all traces of his interference. “They shouldn’t notice any disruptions.” 

“Let’s get to the server room,” Thor says, giving Steve a nod of admiration. “Our trail isn’t exactly clean.” It’s only a matter of time before someone stumbles across the bodies and the blood splatters in the hallway. These offices may be empty now that they’re under new management, but this is a main route to the elevators. Thor wonders who the mastermind behind all of this is, and if they’ll ever get a chance to meet. _There has never been a person I want to punch more. One day all of HYDRA will pay for its crimes, and rest assured that if not today, then another time._ It’s impossible to know how many people HYDRA has hurt, or know the names of all those victims, but he can destroy HYDRA in Steve’s. 

Steve looks ready to destroy in his own name, pocketing the USB and striding after the brothers with returned resolve, his eyes focused. Loki takes the lead, and Thor the rear, their guns aimed and ready. They shut the office door like they found it, and walk off in search of the stairwell. The elevator would be faster, but too dangerous. 

It won’t be long before the man waiting for their arrival realizes they aren’t coming, and that his men aren’t answering their radios, so the little group picks up the pace. Running hurts, but not as much as it will if HYDRA gets their hands on him, so he manages, keeping up with the other two. Loki opens the stairwell door and urges them through first. “Go,” he orders quietly, taking up the rear. 

Stairs are tough, jostling his shoulder and straining his knee, but Thor hops down them after Steve, holstering his gun so he can steady himself with the railing. The last thing he needs is to trip and smash his face in. Loki follows, turning around every couple of seconds to watch the door they just came through, as well as the others they pass as they work their way down flight by flight. The men are close, and when they open the stairwell door, it’s too late to hide. They shout, gunfire echoing through the stairwell as it pelts concrete and pings off steel railings. 

“Run!” Loki orders, firing off a round of bullets before turning to follow. They run. Thor hops down the last four steps of the flight, stumbling a little but regaining his balance and keeping close on Steve’s tail. They’re almost at the right floor. 

Even over the sound of gunshots, he hears the click of a lock from the door he’s just passed. “They’re locking the doors remotely!” he warns. They won’t get through. They’re trapped. And the door they need is just one flight down, while the enemy only gains. 

“Tony!” Steve yells over his earpiece. 

“Here!” Tony calls back over the transmission. “Are those gunshots?” 

“I need the stairwell door on basement floor five open!” Steve calls. 

“Which stairwell?” Tony replies frantically. “There are like six!” 

“Stairwell three!” Thor injects. 

“Done!” Tony exclaims. “What’s going on? Are you guys okay-?” 

“We’re fine!” Steve assures, leading the way to the door. Sure enough, it opens when he pushes on it, and the three of them charge safely through. “Tony, lock it!” 

“Locked!” 

“Go,” Loki grabs Thor by the arm and looks between him and Steve. “Go to the server room. I will hold them and keep them off your tail.” 

“Loki-” Thor whirls on his brother, a growl rising in his chest. 

“I said go, you moron,” Loki beats him to the growl, shoving him in the direction they need to go. “Or I’ll shoot you in the head before HYDRA gets the chance.” 

“Fuck you,” Thor grits, but this is their best hope. Reluctantly, he follows Steve, gathering speed and leaving his brother crouched and ready by the stairwell door. Loki is clever, cleverer than any of these HYDRA scum, and though Thor has never seen him use a weapon, he appears to know what he’s doing. This is not the first time Loki has held a weapon, or killed someone. _We have some catching up to do, brother._

“Guys, what’s going on?” Tony asks anxiously over their connection. 

“We’re okay,” Steve breathes. “We’re good. Just keep doing what you’re doing from your end.” 

Tony goes quiet, and so does Steve, looking left and right for enemies, and for their destination. HYDRA knows they’re here, and they’ve barely started. Thor draws his gun and keeps up, his ailments completely forgotten. At the very least, he knows his way around, so that’s something. Two more turns, and they should be there. Thor takes the lead and slows cautiously, ready to shoot anything that moves, and protect Steve with his body. 

Up ahead appears their destination, glass looking into a dimly-lit room full of servers and shadow and blinking lights. Thor walks up to the door and stands to face the hallways, aiming his gun and listening closely for any approaching footsteps. 

Steve walks right up to the door and taps on the keypad a few times, but quickly determines that he can’t so easily hack his way into this room on his own. “Tony. Can you get the server room open?” he touches his ear. 

“Gotcha pal, hang on a sec.” Tony gets to work, and Thor guards them vigilantly, nearly forgetting to breathe. Anyone could come around that corner at any time, and they’re cornered. And what about Loki? _Loki can handle_ _himself,_ _he’ll be fine. Just don’t die. Don’t fucking die-_ The control panel chirps, breaking him from his thoughts. The door hisses open, and they quickly walk in, watching the hallways as it shuts behind them. 

Thor quickly pulls Steve behind a shelf and ducks down, listening for a moment or two more before turning to his companion. “Alright,” he says. “Now what? 

Steve looks around. “There should be a control panel here somewhere, or something,” he explains. “Something where the power connects in. It might be locked out but there should be a breaker box or a socket around here.” 

“Split up,” Thor nods. “You search this side, I will search the other, and meet you at the back.” 

“Got it,” Steve nods, and moves toward the wall. Thor slips across, keeping his eyes on the windows, and his gun drawn. 

It’s a maze in here, not to mention quite hot despite the fans running. Thor wipes sweat off his forehead and walks carefully, breathing deeply to bring his heart rate down. If he passes out, it’s not just his own life he puts at risk. 

Thor sighs quietly and keeps his ear out for the approach of enemies while he looks for the main power source. As he gets deeper and deeper into the room, light from the windows becomes dimmer. Wincing, Thor wipes his brow again and keeps going. Something catches his foot and he stumbles, nearly falling over but managing not to. He restrains a grunt and looks down at the floor, coaxing his beating heart to slow before he topples. There’s a plastic cable guard on the floor, leading away from a server and up to the wall, where the cable joins the others and carries toward the back of the room. Thor just about smacks himself for his stupidity and creeps along the wall. 

Something isn’t right, and Thor always trusts his gut. Immediately, he crouches with his back to the nearest server and holds his gun at the ready, listening intently to the entire room. There isn’t much to be heard over the dull hum of processors and the whoosh of cooling fans. On the other side of the room, he can hear Steve’s boots padding quietly on the floor, along with the rustle of fabric, but there’s something else there. A gust of air or a measured breath, something so subtle he’s not sure what it is, only that it’s the sort of noise only the most well-trained soldiers leave behind – even the stealthiest leave some trace, and these are the traces Thor listens for. Trust his gut to know something is up. 

By this stage, he knows what Steve’s cries sound like – that's definitely Steve who yelps in surprise as a bullet is fired off. It doesn’t sound like a pained cry, but then again adrenaline can suppress pain for a long, long time. And it doesn’t really matter anyway, because somebody is in here, shooting at Steve. Thor pushes off and run through the rows and rows of computers, following the sounds. 

The sound of flesh hitting flesh is unmistakable, and so is the grunt of pain by the receiver of what sounded like a mighty punch. Something clatters to the ground only a few seconds later, which much have been Steve's glasses; that’s the first thing Thor sees as he turns down a row of servers, one of the lenses smashed and the other newly cracked. Not far away are two men locked in a brawl, Steve fighting against the larger man assaulting him. The enemy has Steve by the collar, while he tries to raise his other arm to shoot. Steve is holding on as hard as he can, but he’s being overpowered and driven back, bleeding from the nose while the other man mercilessly throws him to the ground. 

Rollins. Thor knows those cruel eyes. Unfortunately, they’re too close to risk a shot, so Thor holsters his gun and charges instead, throwing his bulk into the HYDRA agent and ripping him away from Steve. Rollings snarls in anger and surprise, landing under Thor’s weight with a grunt. He raises the gun in his hand, but Thor punches him in the jaw, unable to reach across himself to grab the weapon. Thor drives another brutal punch into Rollins’ cheek and brings up his leg, stamping on the agent’s wrist. The bone cracks, but Rollins is tough enough to fight through, gritting his teeth and swinging a punch into Thor’s injured shoulder. 

That’s enough to dislodge Thor for the time Rollins needs to escape from under him, the HYDRA agent scrambling to his feet and bringing the gun with him. Thor growls and gathers his strength, moving himself between Rollins and Steve protectively. 

“It’s you fuckers again,” Rollins shows his teeth. 

“Hide,” Thor barks. “Steve, get out of the way.” He doesn’t check to make sure the other man obeys, running instead at Rollins before bullets start firing again. With his broken wrist, Rollins is slowed just enough in shooting that Thor has time to attack; Thor jumps and puts his weight behind a spinning kick, driving his boot into Rollins’ hand. The fingers give, and the gun drops. Thor drops under a punch and swings his leg around, kicking the gun across the floor and straightening, drawing his knife. 

“You look like you’ve been resurrected from the dead,” Rollins pants. “You should have stayed down and died quietly. I’ll gut you, and I won’t do it slowly. I’ll gut your fuck-toy too, and you can both watch each other until one of you dies.” 

“Creative.” Thor slices his sling and shakes out his arm, coaxing some life into it. It’s bleeding again, but it’s been wrapped quite generously just in case. 

“We placed bets on how stupid you are,” Rollins flexes his damaged hand and squares up, drawing a knife of his own. “I guess we were all wrong.” 

“Don’t need brains to kick your ass,” Thor snaps, charging. No, he just needs to be faster. Rollins is wider and bulkier, but he’s not the better warrior of the two. Thor can win. He predicts a punch at his shoulder and the follow-up stab at his belly, blocking the first with his good arm and dodging the second. He flips the knife to a back-hand grip and slashes at Rollins’ throat, but misses. 

Rollins is in perfect fighting shape, not hindered by injuries or illness. He leans back and turns his hips, kicking Thor in gut and shoving him back a couple of stumbling steps, then straightening and advancing into the opening he’s made. The knife stabs out, and Thor blocks the wrist with his own, fighting against Rollins’ arm with his injured one. But, that leaves his good arm available for attack, so he grits his teeth through the pain and forces his arm to fling Rollins’ away from his chest. Thor stabs, but the blade only grazes Rollins’ side, cutting mainly through his body armor and leaving a shallow cut in his ribs. 

“You’re slow,” Rollins scoffs, dropping the knife into his other hand so he’s free to grab Thor’s right wrist and wrench his arm outward. The joint protests, and Thor lets out a deep, guttural cry as he yanks back, tugging Rollins toward him and smashing him in the face with his forehead. 

Rollins staggers, his broken nose gushing blood, but Thor is off-balanced too, regretting his decision as his head spins badly. He recovers as fast as he can, protecting his injured arm against his chest and turning to block Rollins’ next thrust with his leg. The knife cuts through the ankle of his boot, but Thor’s leg is so much stronger than Rollins’ arm, and he easily throws his opponent’s arm aside with his heel to the inside of his forearm. Unbalanced, Rollins is vulnerable to the flying kick Thor smashes into his shoulder. A kick Thor lands so well, despite his condition, that it should be impossible. This won’t last, not while he’s bleeding, and his heart is beating faster than he can handle. It’s making him dizzy already, and he can’t regulate his breathing like he needs to. 

Rollins stumbles back, but by the time Thor has closed the gap between them, he’s ready for more, rolling his shoulders and eagerly meeting the advance. He attacks with his knife again, and Thor parries, blocking stab after stab after punch. At this pace, he can barely keep up, and Rolling is driving him back, slowly working him until his back is against the wall. Grinning sadistically, Rollins stabs to the right. 

Thor throw up his arm and catches Rollins’ fist, gasping as his muscles strain to hold back the attack, and the knife comes closer and closer to his already pulverized shoulder. Triumphantly, Rollins drops the knife down into his other waiting hand, and stabs it into Thor’s leg. The blade may be short, but even partially buried is a long way. Thor barely has time to shout before Rollins kicks him in his injured knee with a crack and completely crumples his leg beneath him. A fist flies toward his face, but Thor is too slow to stop it from cracking into his temple and knocking him flat. Thor slides down the wall, but he isn’t given much time before Rollins is in again, kicking him fiercely in the ribs once, twice. Surely, his ribs are cracked by now, but Thor can’t hear much over the roaring of blood in his head and his own grunts as he’s brought down. He coughs and tastes blood, struggling to catch his breath and recover so he can defend himself. 

He’s not fast enough: Rollins draws the gun from Thor’s hip, aiming it immediately at Thor’s head. 

“I’m tempted to kill you now,” Rollins sneers, licking blood from his lips. “But I do want my fun, for all the trouble you’ve caused. And because I want the others to enjoy this too. Everything's more fun with friends.” He aims the gun at Thor’s knee instead, teasing the trigger. 

Thor doesn’t dare move, knowing he won’t be fast enough to avoid a bullet, or disarm his opponent before more are fired. There has to be a way out, something he can say to drag this out. A bullet to the knee is better than one to the head, but it lessens their options so badly that it might as well be a death sentence. Then again, maybe it’s too late, and he won’t be able to walk with his other leg in such bad shape as it is. _No, don’t give up. If you do, Steve dies, and not a quick death either._

“I’m going to enjoy this so much, you have no idea,” Rollins grins, his eyes shining menacingly in the shadows along with his gun. 

“Put it down.” Another shape has appeared amidst the chaos, standing tall and strong. Thor looks up, and of course it’s Steve, because who the fuck else would it be? Steve, holding his gun against Rollins’ head, his eyes steely and his jaw firm. His hair is wild and his face is smearing blood. He looks almost like a different person, with his shoulders back and his voice deeper than usual as he gives the order again. “Drop it.” Steve thumbs back the hammer with a menacing click, disarming the safety. He jams the barrel into the back of Rollins’ head when he doesn’t get a reply. 

“You don’t know what you’re doing, kid,” Rollins snorts. “You think you could kill someone?” 

“We can find out,” Steve replies with admirable calmness. Thor can see his companion’s legs are trembling, but it doesn’t come through in his voice. “I said _drop it_.” 

Rollins chuckles and shakes his head, starting to lower his gun. Thor doesn’t dare move, not even to collapse further and try to catch his breath, and he’s right to do so, because Rollins spins around without warning and snatches the gun by the barrel right from Steve’s hand, raising his other weapon and shooting. Steve is already diving, but he cries out as he falls, covering his head. While the gun is off him, Thor moves, shoving himself to his feet with more strength than he thought he could muster. Rollins is already flipping the gun he stole from Steve in his hand and aiming it, shooting at Thor’s head. 

Nothing comes out. The gun is empty. Steve emptied it. Thor grins and yanks the blade out of his leg, thrusting his body off the ground and into Rollins, punching him under the chin, and stabbing him in the throat. Both guns fall out of Rollins’ hands as the man himself topples backward bonelessly. Thor rips out the blade, dropping it on the ground as he loses his balance and stumbles back, collapsing on his side and guarding his arm. 

Rolling chokes and gurgles for a few short seconds before his life bleeds out, and he goes completely still, his expression locked in shock and splattered with blood that keeps trickling even though his heart has stopped. 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bug spray - it's the new frying pan!

Steve peers through his arms at Rollins’ twitching body, too shocked to move as he watches the man die right before him, blood puddling across the floor in a quantity Steve couldn’t have imagined. The room is very still all of a sudden, except for Thor, who is panting on the floor, covered in blood once again. His pant leg shimmers in the dim light, and his face is wet with sweat. His shoulder is dotted with blood. Urgency enables Steve to unfold and move in, forcefully ignoring the body. He grabs the discarded sling off the floor and runs to Thor, getting to his knee. His glasses are nearby too, but since  they’re too broken, he leaves them be.

“Oh my god...” he murmurs, sliding his arm under Thor’s shoulders and pulling him sitting. “You’re bleeding again.”

“But I’m not dead,” Thor winces, looking surprisingly pleased despite how badly he’s panting. “Or... maimed. All in one piece.”

“I  dunno , if this isn’t maimed, then you’re a paper-cut away,” Steve shakes his head, wrapping the cloth around Thor’s leg and tying a tight knot, assessing the situation as fast as he can.  _ So much blood... Fuck. _

“I’m alright,” Thor insists, patting Steve on the shoulder. He pauses and frowns. “Are you...?” his eyes drift from Steve’s blood-smeared face to his arm, reaching out to hold him by the bicep.

There’s a graze in the sleeve when Steve looks, but he does spend any time assessing how deep it is, ignoring it with all his willpower lest pain seep through whatever is holding it back. “I’m fine,” he shakes his head, wrapping Thor’s arm around his neck to pull him back and sit him against the wall. “Don’t worry about it. Put pressure on that, okay? I’m going to look for the power source and shut this down, and we can get out of here.” He pushes Thor hand into his shoulder.

Thor just nods, licking a dribble of blood from the corner of his mouth while he draws rattling breaths. Urgently, Steve gets up to look around, wiping blood off his lips and spitting some onto the floor. He jogs along the wall, looking left and right.  _ Come on. Come on, please... It has to be around here somewhere.  _ They can’t leave until this is finished. Steve struggles to control his own breathing, fighting not to become frantic. If he loses his cool, they’re done.  _ I can do this. _ Steve tightens his fists, searching for where all the cables meet.

There, in the wall: they lead into the corner and up to a box bolted there. It’s locked shut. Steve shakes his head and jogs back, scooping up the loaded gun and running as fast as his quivering legs will let him. He shoots, recoiling in surprise and wincing as the bullet explodes out of the barrel and blasts a hole in the sheet metal box. Steve holsters the weapon and opens the door, the lock still in place but the mechanism destroyed. Steve scans the electrical panel inside and draws his knife, using the tip to unscrew the face off the panel. With the wires exposed, he reaches in and rips them out, shutting the servers down in chunks. Steve grunts with effort as he grabs the box and pulls as hard as he can, tearing it off the wall with all his weight dragging it down. He lands on his back with a thump and crumble of dry-wall. Steve throws down the box and shoots the larger cable running into the bottom, entirely severing the severs from the grid. He holsters the gun again and runs back to Thor’s side.

“Okay, time to go,” he urges, gathering up the empty gun and reloading it, holstering it to Thor’s hip and taking the other man’s arm. “Let’s go.”

Thor grunts, the rush of battle leaving him. He struggles to bend his leg even a little, paling as he tries. “Steve,” he huffs, pausing to cough as he drags them both back down. Patiently, Steve waits for him to catch his breath, staying close. Thor wipes his mouth, licking blood from his lips. “Steve... go. I can’t...”

“Can’t what?” Steve dares him to elaborate, pulling Thor’s arm around his neck more securely and bunching his legs, lifting the larger man with all his strength. “Come on. You can do it.”

“I’ll only slow you down,” Thor coughs again, slumping heavily into Steve’s support. “Steve, please... just go.”

“Not an option,” Steve argues, finding that commanding tone again. “On your feet. Don’t make this all about you.”

“Please...” Thor tries again, basically pleading this time as he struggles to put any weight on his injured leg.

“You know you’re - ah – a bit of a drama queen?” Steve hoists Thor upright and holds on, leading him with determination toward the door. “And I bet if I needed you to, you could run.  So chin up, soldier, and walk.”

Fuck, Thor is heavy, but he’s making the effort to walk, shivering and making restrained whining noises with each step of his injured leg he takes. Steve shoves himself a bit more under Thor’s body to take as much weight as he can, moving them forward as fast as they can manage without both of them ending up on the floor. Steve has a bad feeling that if Thor goes down, he might not be able to get up again.

If enemies come around that corner, which is inevitable, is Steve prepared to shoot? He glares ahead – if only he could glare hard enough to deter HYDRA from appearing at all. Steve touches his ear. “Tony. I need your help.”

“Sure thing.” Tony responds immediately.

“Where’s the nearest elevator to the server room?” Steve asks. “Apart from elevator three?”

“Uh, that’d be elevator two,” Tony replies. “Take your first left and keep going, then a right, and it should be there.”

“And I need security footage,” Steve says. “And I need the car ready.” Thor can barely walk, and walking is putting it generously.

“We can bring it around and pick you up from the  parkade entrance,” Tony offers, worry creeping into his voice.

“Good,” Steve watches carefully as he turns the way Tony directed, practically carrying Thor along with him. “Can you get those elevator doors open? I need you to get us to the ground floor, avoiding enemies if we can.”

“Ground floor near shaft two is pretty crowded,” Tony explains. “But I can bring you up a floor and hold you there while I work out a route. You’ll be safe in there. HYDRA is trying to override me, but if I keep them busy they shouldn’t interfere with the elevators.”

“Thanks,” Steve tries not to sigh, hurrying Thor down the corridor, around another corner, and into the waiting elevator. Thor immediately rests his hips against the railing with a soft moan. “We’re in,” Steve says. “Tony, we’re in.”

“Gotcha.” The doors slide shut behind them, and the box rises slowly up one floor, where it stops. “Okay,” Tony goes on, “I’m going see what I can do about the guys in your way. Loki, where you at?”

“Occupied,” Loki grunts. “These men are tenacious, despite their faults. I will make my way to you as fast as I can.” A few gunshots ring out over their connection, but at least he sounds alright. “If I can clear a path, I will meet you by the elevator doors and cover you to the  parkade .”

“Hang on a minute,” Tony replies. “Let me see if I can find a better path. You okay to hang tight?”

“Yup,” Steve grunts, adjusting his position under Thor. “I gotcha...” The small space is quickly filling with the smell of blood. He pushes his hand into Thor’s shoulder, dampness squeezing through the bandage and onto his palm.  _ How many pints can a guy lose and keep going? _ Thor is huffing through his nose like a bull, staring at the opposite wall and gathering his legs under himself with determination.  _ That’s it, just a bit further. We’re in the home stretch. _ It's all of HYDRA against the five of them, two of which are in the car hidden safely in an alleyway, but that’s no problem. None at all.

The earpiece buzzes as Tony rejoins their connection. The elevator begins to rise. “Okay, I’m letting you off on the next floor up. There’s a service stairwell that should take you straight into the parkade. Get to the main doors, and we’ll pick you up just outside.”

“Got it,” Steve nods, and Thor nods too, taking a few deeper breaths and testing his weight. When the elevator doors open, Steve leads them into the corridor. It’s quiet out here, but he still looks left and right before stepping out. Thor limps along beside him, panting and trying to manage his own weight as much as he can.

As far as Steve can tell, their path is clear. Still, he exercises caution as he turns the first corner.

“Okay, Steve,” Tony urgently pipes up again. “There’s-” He doesn’t get the chance to finish.

Steve hisses as his earpiece crackles and whines, his free hand flying up to it with a wince. Thor reacts similarly to the sudden burst of static, his right hand leaping off his chest to grab it, but quickly flying back into place from the pain it causes him. “Tony!” Steve calls, swinging them around so they can brace against the wall and watch the corridor from both ways better. Nobody is coming just yet. “Tony, answer me! Hill, Loki!”

There is no response, just static. Thor coughs to clear his throat, blood bubbling on his lips. “They must... must have disrupted the signal,” he rasps. “Internally.”

Unless Tony can somehow break the disruption, they’re blind and alone down here. Steve pushes his hand into Thor’s chest to steady him, listening to everything around him as he thinks. They still have options – hell, the two of them have already broken out of HYDRA on their own once before, with no external help. But without knowing where the disruptor is, it’s a bad idea to go looking for it.

As a unit, they’re extremely vulnerable. “Can you shoot?” Steve asks.

Thor nods and spits out a mouthful of blood. “Be careful,” he rasps. “HYDRA can likely still communicate.”

“Gotcha. Swap sides,” Steve suggests, moving his grip and sliding around to Thor’s other side. It’ll be harder to shoulder the other man’s weight this way, but they can’t risk getting caught off guard if an enemy appears. Steve wraps his arm around Thor’s waist and pushes the other into his chest, the weight-bearing pillar of the structure. Thor draws his gun. Steve gives his eyes a rub, hoping Thor can see details in the distance well enough for both of them. At least he’s not so blind without his glasses that he can’t recognize shapes, or can’t walk at all.

At the very least, Thor doesn’t have to be dragged. He’s walking, his knee making awful popping noises as he does, but he’s gone quiet, stuffing all that immense suffering somewhere deep down. How Thor is even upright and lucid, Steve’s not sure, but he’s just as resolute to make sure they both stay that way. Thor’s strength gives him strength, which he uses to keep them both plowing forward.

“We’ll try Tony’s route,” Steve says. “Think you can manage some stairs?”

Thor nods without any pause, but they don’t have time for doubts. The elevator would certainly be faster and easier on Thor’s beaten body, but without being able to anticipate what awaits them on the other side of the door, Steve doesn’t think it’s worth the risk, and Thor’s not giving any input. He’s giving what he can however, breathing as deeply as he can and keeping his eyes open for danger, landing one foot in front of the other.

Someone is coming. Steve hears it first, but Thor is only a moment behind, lifting his head and looking around. He opens his mouth, but Steve shakes his head and ushers them off to the side and into a storage room. He rests the door shut so he can peer through the crack, letting go of Thor once his friend is leaning securely on a shelf of cleaning supplies.

If he has to, could he really shoot someone?  _ Kill _ someone? No, Steve doesn’t think so. If there are more men than Thor can shoot down on his own, then he’ll have to think of something. As the boots approach, Steve squints into the room. It’s large enough for both of them to stand comfortably in, so he doesn’t have to search far for supplies. A bottle of bleach-based cleaning spray should do nicely. Even better, there’s some powerful bug spray beside it, so he takes that and twists the cap to open the nozzle. He looks across at Thor, who nods back, holding his gun at the ready.

Three men are patrolling the corridor on high-alert, weapons held at the ready while one agent opens door after door to inspect each room. There’s no hiding from this one. Steve breathes as quietly as he can, and so does Thor, and they wait patiently. Steve’s not sure whose heart is beating faster, or more loudly.

If they time this wrong, it’s game over. Steve positions himself carefully, making sure he has a good grip on the can. His hands are slick with sweat and blood, but at least he’s steady and clear-headed.

The group checks the door straight across from them first, and as they turn away to approach the supply closet, Steve turns his hip and grabs the supply shelf for balance. The leader reaches out for the door, and the moment he’s close enough, Steve kicks. The door flies open and smashes the agent in the wrist, throwing his arm across his body, and the edge of the door cracking him in the side of the head.

Guns are immediately raised, but Steve doesn’t waste time, lunging out and wielding his weapon. His long legs easily bring him within the radius of the nearest man, where he mercilessly brandishes his bug spray. The man drops his gun, staggering back with a cry of surprise and agony, blinded. Steve decks him the face, and the man goes down, too disoriented to stand. It’s not his best punch, and it hurts his hand, but there’s no time to care about that when the other two agents are converging on them.

Thor shoots at one, but his aim is severely hindered, and even at close range it takes him a couple of shots to hit his moving target in the leg. The HYDRA agent stumbles but keeps moving forward, ready to take a shot of his own. Steve spins around and slaps the gun from his hand with a wild swing, hitting him in the wrist with the can of spray. He’s about to swing another punch, but an arm wraps around his neck from behind and drags him back, wrenching upward so hard it nearly lifts his feet off the ground. He drops the spray.

“Steve,” Thor growls, but he can’t intervene because his own enemy is tackling him, and they both go down in a heap of limbs.

Steve chokes, leaning back as he tries to relieve the pressure on his neck. He’s taller than the man attacking him, and his libs are longer. Struggling against the stronger opponent, Steve thrusts his leg back and fumbles his foot around the other man’s ankle, yanking it forward and shoving his shoulders back. It’s enough to unbalance the agent, who topples back, Steve landing on top of him with a grunt. The agent coughs, fumbling at his belt for his blade. Urgently, Steve rolls off and smacks the reaching hand away, doing what he knows best – Steve punches across the agent’s face once, twice, on the bruise left by the door. Weakened, the agent falters, and Steve has the chance to snatch up his lazily-rolling can of spray and deploy it once more.

While the agent squirms, Steve whips around to face where Thor and his own opponent are struggling on the floor in a tight tangle of limbs. Steve runs over and grabs the agent by the back of his vest, yanking him back with a yell and whacking him in the head with the can. It makes a mighty clang, followed by another as Steve deals a second blow. The man falls to the ground, unconscious.

Steve straightens, panting. He coughs and rubs his throat, kneeling to help Thor off the floor. “I’m keeping this,” he heaves, sliding the can into his pocket and wrapping Thor’s arm around his neck to pull him sitting.

“Ah-” Thor shuts his eyes, slumping before Steve can get him standing. “Steve...” He leans against the wall, sliding his arm off Steve’s shoulders and wrapping it around his ribs.

“Come on, soldier,” Steve urges, picking up his friend’s dropped weapon. “On your feet.”

“Just... just a second,” Thor murmurs.

“Up first,” Steve urges. “Thor, come on. You can do it. Did you take another hit?” As far as he can tell, there aren’t any new patches of blood on his friend.

“No,” Thor wheezes. “No... I’m just... You should go.”

“Out of the question,” Steve retorts. “So don’t you fucking dare suggest it again. Either we sit here together until they find us, or we both get out.”

“Steve...” Thor swallows roughly, looking up pleadingly. “Steve, if you go, you can get out. I know it. I will not seal  your fate.”

“See? Dramatic,” Steve shakes his head. “I said get up. That’s an order.”

“You... you can’t...”

“I can do what I want. You liked it when I did that before,” Steve wrestles Thor’s arm back around his neck and pulls.

“Didn’t... didn’t know you had a bossy side,” Thor winces, but makes the effort to stand up. His leg is more dragging than moving now.

“Well, I do, and you’re going to enjoy it later, when you’re all patched up,” Steve reassures. “I’ll even tie you to the bed if that’s what you like, just  _ walk _ .”

“Are you bribing me?” Thor huffs, leaning so heavily into Steve that Steve doesn’t bother trying to swap sides so Thor can shoot – he just holsters the gun and gets a good grip on his friend, leading them as fast as Thor can go toward the stairwell. How the hell Thor is going to walk up those now is a fucking mystery.

“Yup,” Steve nods. “With sex. Any position you like, for as long as you can handle. It’ll be the best sex of your life. I’ll make you breakfast afterward and everything. Or lunch, or dinner, whatever time of day you want to do it.”

Thor actually chuckles, despite it being breathless. “That’s... cheap.”

“But it’s working,” Steve grins triumphantly.

“Can... can we do it both ways?” Thor sounds genuinely hopeful.

“ Sure we can,” Steve agrees, checking left and right as he turns the corner and leans them to the stairwell door.  _ No... this isn’t going to work. Thor can’t walk up those. He can barely walk in a straight line. _ He takes a look through the door and listens. Is it worth risking the elevator...? Maybe. If they try to walk up, it’ll take them so long that Thor might not be able to walk at all by the top, and someone could easily intercept them. They’re vulnerable in the stairwell.

They’re vulnerable in the elevator, too, but at least it saves their strength, Thor’s especially. This unit is only as strong as their weakest member. Steve punches the button and the doors slide open immediately. He drags Thor inside and props him against the railing.

“Ready?” Steve asks, swapping sides again so Thor can hold his gun. There’s no other way they can do this. He smacks the button for the  parkade and holds close, pressing both of them right beside the door so they at least have a chance if enemies are waiting for them. Thor nods, steadying his grip on the weapon and holding it up. “Good,” Steve replies. “I gotcha, okay? We’re a team.” Steve is definitely afraid of what HYDRA will do to him if they catch him, but he’s even more afraid of becoming the sort of person who would leave a teammate – a friend – behind.

The elevator slides to a halt, and the doors open. Everything is quiet. Steve peers through first, before deeming the coast is clear and taking Thor with him. It’s a small miracle. They get walking again, Thor fighting to move with as much of his own strength as he can.

They round the corner, and a set of double doors leads straight into the  parkade . Steve just has to hope Tony is still on his way. He tests the door, pleased to find that somehow the lock isn’t engaged – maybe Tony is still able to help them. Not thinking too much about it, Steve pushes one door open and pulls Thor after him, cautiously looking around the dimly-lit parkade. There are lots of vehicles parked just like the last time they were here, ranging from regular-looking cars, to armored vehicles in black, and the array of bikes. Some distance away is the exit, which is closed. Those aren’t doors they can break through with just guns. Steve frowns and they keep walking through the quiet space, the slightest noise echoing around them. It feels too exposed.

There’s a panel by the door. Steve  starts to lead them toward it.

An engine revs to their right, bright headlights suddenly illuminating the  parkade , approaching at rapid speed. Thor yells something of a warning, but he’s drowned out by the engine and the squealing of rubber tires on concrete. It doesn’t matter, because both of them throw themselves out of the way, landing roughly on the unforgiving ground. The landing is especially hard on Thor, who tries to protect Steve with his body, and in doing-so takes the worst of the impact, groaning as they recover and he starts to sit.

Most importantly, the car misses, crashing into a support pillar. The driver shuts off the engine and throws open the door, clambering out and drawing his gun. With speed from who-knows-where, Thor shoves Steve back and draws his own weapon, shooting the agent dead with a single shot to the head.

“Can you get that door open?” he looks back at Steve. “I’ll cover you.”

“I can,” Steve nods, scrambling to his feet and running to the panel by their escape route. Meanwhile, Thor robs the gun from the body and holsters it as back-up, crouching behind the armored car for cover. Already, footsteps are approaching from the surrounding stairwells. This whole space will be crawling with HYDRA in a matter of minutes.

So Steve doesn’t waste a second on the control panel, jamming the can of spray into the edge to bash it off. He pulls it off the wall and exposes the wires, tracking them with his eyes in search of the ones he wants. Tony could do this in half the time, but unfortunately this may be outside of his friend’s control. Steve grits his teeth and pulls at the wires, loosening the jumble. He finds what he needs and rips it out.

A set of stairwell doors fly open, instantly filling the space with shouting and gunshots. Thor shoots back, his arm rested on the hood of the car for balance and aim, and his legs guarded by the tires. Steve forces himself to look away, wincing as a stray bullet crumbles the wall a few feet from his head. There’s nothing he can do to stop himself from getting shot, other than work faster, and hope Thor can aim well enough to thin the herd, while not getting shot himself.

It’s a simple circuit, something Steve wouldn’t have struggled with even in the early stages of his degree. He dissects the components, careful not to electrocute himself in the process as he puts his bare hands into the live circuit. His boots are rubber-soled, so that should protect him against this voltage. Steve rips out a couple of wires and draws his knife, slicing through them as fast as he can. This is so dangerous, but an electric shock is better than torture. Steve cuts off power first, stripping the wires so they can be twisted back together when he’s finished. He finds the leads that engage the motors to lift the door, and cuts them, bypassing the switch and connecting them straight to the power source. Steve twists the wires together and stands back as the door starts to rise.

“Thor!” he yells over the sound of bullets. “Thor, come on!” In just a few seconds, they’ll be able to roll under the opening.

Thor fires off another couple of bullets, swapping to his backup gun when that one clicks empty, and killing two more enemies before turning around to run. Steve waits, ready to grab him and help. With a burst of power, Thor puts his head down and starts to close the distance between them with lopsided but determined strides. He’s  _ running _ , the sun working up his legs as the door opens and lets the light in.

“Come on!” Steve encourages, opening his arm to receive his friend while HYDRA swarms from behind, continuously firing.

It’s only apparent how far away Thor actually is when a well-placed bullet strikes him from behind and cuts him down. It pierces high in his back with a burst of blood, and Thor’s eye widen in time with Steve’s.

“ _ No! _ " Steve yells, launching forward. Thor hits the ground, falling flat in an unmoving heap. His shirt is already slick with new blood welling up out of the hole just above his vest, down into his chest.

Into his lung. There’s blood on his lips when Steve turns him over, gurgling up like a leaky faucet.

“Get up!” Steve yells, yanking Thor up by his arm. “Come on! We’re so close!”

Bribery won’t help. Thor is already going grey, his breathing taking on a distinct bubbly quality, and his body too heavy for Steve to lift. This time, he’s getting no help.

HYDRA is coming, but the door is right there, still sliding open farther and farther. Steve looks back at the sun, then down at Thor lying at his feet. “Come on, Thor,” he pleads, standing up and ducking his head to avoid getting it shot off. He runs at the armored car and kicks the inside of the open door. While the frame and body are armored, the hinges aren’t, and they crack under the force. Steve draws his gun and shoots them off, holstering it and scooping up the door. He holds onto it by the handle and lifts it like a shield. He runs back and grabs Thor by the strap of his vest, hauling his upper body off the concrete, and out of the growing puddle of blood.

God, there’s so much, soaking through Steve’s fingers when he tries to push his hand into the new wound. None-the-less, he grits his teeth in preparation, to seal his decision to himself. He drags Thor into his lap and makes them as small as possible, holding the car door in front of them as the  enemies swarm toward them.

Bullets blast into the door, cracking the glass and damaging the paint, but Steve holds on, no matter how much the impact knocking on his arm hurts, no matter how forceful it batters him. Thor’s head is falling into his shoulder, eyes sliding shut, thick dribbles of blood sliding through his parted lips as his breathing increases in speed. But he looks peaceful, disconnected even, as if none of this is happening, as if this is just a tender hug in solitude.

“Eyes on me!” Steve shouts again, wincing as his shield cracks. The glass won’t hold up much longer. And bug spray isn’t going to get them out of this one. Steve glances as the gun on his hip, wondering if he could have prevented this if he’d just taken a shot or two. He may have to now.

The armored glass cracks again, and a bullet pierces the weak spot, sailing past his head. Steve winced and  lets go of Thor, drawing the gun from his hip. He has no choice but this, or death, and Steve’s not willing to accept death without putting up a fight, no matter how scared he is. He owes Thor that much. He barely feels like himself, as if someone else has possessed him as he gathers his wits to shoot through the broken window.

He doesn’t have to. An engine revs, and a pair of high-beams blind him. Steve hides his face, squinting over his arm as the lights pass, and the shooting slows, replaced with shouts. Loki’s car is there, Tony hanging on in the passenger seat while Agent Hill mows down agents, driving a skillful donut around a pillar and flinging more men out of the way with the back end of the heavy sports car.

Another stairwell door busts open, and the shooting resumes, but it’s Loki who’s arrived, firing his rifle into the scattered HYDRA agents. They quickly spread their fire between the newcomers, but Hill is on the move, and Loki takes cover behind an armored car of his own.

Steve throws down his battered shield and gets Thor’s arm around his neck again. “Come on,” he groans, struggling to lift Thor’s dead-weight off the cement. “Come on...” They can make it through the door. They can do it. 

Thor actually moves, squeezing out a wet moan as he tenses his arm around Steve’s neck and tries to get his legs under him.

“Come on,” Steve begs. “You can do it.  _ Walk. _ "

Thor tries. He really does. His  whole body shivers with effort, but he gives it his best, dragging one leg forward, then the other, wheezing as he does. Steve can’t hold him up on his own anymore, not as Thor starts to go down again with a warbling sigh, closing his eyes. The weight is just too much.

Steve swallows his tears of grief and desperation and a whole cocktail of other emotions he doesn’t have the capacity or the time to address, summoning all of his own strength as well to drag them forward. Step by step, inch by inch, it doesn’t matter so long as they’re moving forward.

“Thor.” Loki is at their side, his rifle slung over his back, reaching out to support his brother. With the extra prop, they can keep going.

“I’m sorry,” Steve chokes on the sob he’s trying so hard to contain. “I’m so sorry, I should have-”

“Save it,” Loki replies briskly, but it’s not unkind. “It’s not your fault. Just move.”

Steve nods and reaffirms his grip, and together they walk toward the entrance. HYDRA has been thinned well enough, but more agents are on their way, storming down the stairwells. And even with the extra help, Thor is going down again, losing that last burst of strength and all his consciousness. He collapses in their grip, his legs completely limp and his head dropping forward.

Not even Loki bothers to chide his brother, simply aiding Steve guide Thor’s fall and lay him on his back. Steve props him upright, hoping at least that will help Thor breathe. Every second counts. He looks back at Hill, who is doing her last sweep to knock down the first wave of enemies and straightening up so she can meet them. The car is punctured with bullet holes, but shows no signs of integral damage. More HYDRA  are already starting to refill the parkade.

And if they get out, get away? It won’t matter for Thor, not if they can’t get him to a hospital. He’s entirely unconscious, but Steve has no plans to leave him behind. When Loki looks up, Steve meets the brother’s gaze firmly, tightening his grip on Thor’s body.

More bullets start to rain down on them, before Hill can reach them, but another sound quickly drowns out the gunfire. A  shadow falls over the light streaming in, accompanied by spinning rotors. Steve looks up, squinting as a breeze washes into the  parkade and ruffles his hair. A helicopter descends from the sky and blocks the opening, and the door slides open.

A handful of people dressed for battle file out, including a woman with short red hair, and a man with a combat bow. They take the lead, casting side glances full of familiarity and fear at the sight of Thor’s collapsed and bloody body, but they don’t stop to talk, raising weapons and meeting the charge of HYDRA agents. On the heel of the allied soldiers is Fury, sweeping out of the helicopter with his black coat billowing behind him. He joins the trio in a flash, urgently reaching out to help put pressure on Thor’s bleeding wounds. “Med-evac is on the way,” he says.

Something feels like it’s breaking inside him, and Steve can’t help the choking bark of a laugh he makes as the appearance of help relieves him of his duties. The burden is no longer solely on his shoulders.

More helicopters are landing out the road outside, cars the flashing lights filling the spaces in between. More and more allies stream past to help, overwhelming the enemy no matter how many more crawl out from inside the base. They’re safe. Hill parks the car and scrambles out with Tony at her side, running over to join the huddle. Tony presses himself tightly against Steve, grabbing his arm to steady both of them. Feeling suddenly unsteady, Steve tips back. Hill quickly replaces him, holding Thor’s shoulders off the concrete and pushing into his back. Sirens are blaring. Police cars and ambulances cram the motorway, two EMTs running into the parkade with a stretcher between them. It takes them plus Fury and Hill to lift Thor off the ground, where he’s quickly whisked away toward another waiting helicopter, leaving nothing but thick bloody splotches on the cement.

Steve gasps, swaying in Tony’s grip as he stands. Loki runs after his brother, and Steve tries to follow, but his legs feel suddenly very weak, and he can’t breathe. Agent Hill grabs his other arm to support him, murmuring something he doesn’t quite register while she helps Tony lead him toward the helicopter. Fury walks ahead, stepping up inside to take the pilot’s seat.

Everything feels like it’s spinning, the blurriness not helping in the least. His head is ringing with gunfire and shouting, and his body suddenly aches all over. He’s dizzy and nauseous, the smell of blood clogging his throat while the tears contract it, driving the ache deeper into his chest.

“Steven!” the moment both feet are inside the helicopter, his mother is there, throwing herself around him and squeezing him tightly. Bucky is just behind, replacing Hill to support his friend and lead him to the bench. Tony follows, shaken and disheveled but still maintaining the presence of mind to help Steve sit down.

The four of them huddle together as the door shut behind them, and they lift off the ground.

“Mom...” Steve shudders, falling into her clutches.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, rocking him a little, stroking his hair. “It’s alright, darling.”

“It’s okay, Stevie, just breathe.” Bucky is there too, rubbing a grounding, soothing hand up and down his back.

They’re safe. It’s over. Steve feels like he might just pass out, and if he does, his family will catch him.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [I drew a thing.](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/stormyandrescuer)  
> As always, thank you for your feedback my wonderful friends <33 I continue to enjoy and look forward to it. Loki POV is new to me, but I did what I thought worked best.

Loki can be patient when he wants to be, but today he has almost none. He paces, ignoring the others. All of them are fine. Shaken, bruised, but fine. They’re quickly taken into other rooms to be inspected. Not a moment too soon, Loki is by himself, free to scowl as he pleases while he waits outside the OR. They’ll be hours in there, he knows it, just like he knows he’ll wear himself out stomping around before he can see his brother. 

That is of course if they can save him. 

_Of course_ _they can. Stupid bastard wouldn’t know how to die if he tried._ Loki curls his lip and does another lap of the empty waiting area. 

That’s the thing: Thor is too stupid to take care of himself. Too stupid to know when enough is enough. Maybe he did know – that's a possibility Loki doesn’t want to delve too deeply into, because what if Thor _did_ know what he was doing? With his overly-dangerous work and the reckless choices he made within that? With the pills and the isolation? _He wasn’t trying to kill himself._ Loki refuses to believe that. 

Thor said so himself. Sometimes Thor is too stupid to know himself, but this time Loki fully believes his moron of a brother. 

Only, it didn’t matter this time, did it? It didn’t fucking matter. They had a plan, Loki was _there_ to help and keep an eye on Thor, but it still went to shit. Never mind that the odds did them no favors in the first place... Loki sighs and slumps in a chair at random, dropping his face into his hands. All he has is Thor, and it’s been a while since he’s really... _had_ a brother. He and Thor haven’t spent time together in years. 

This will not be the sigh that ends a sentence, the unsatisfying ellipses at the end of a chapter. There will be more time to talk, and certainly time to smack his brother for putting him through this. 

_I warned you I’d leave. I should have, the last time. I should have walked out and never spoken to you again. Then I wouldn’t be here wondering if you’re even still alive._ It’s enough to make him want to tear his hair out, and he goes so far as to grab handfuls and tug until it hurts. Not knowing is the hard part; this very moment, they could be signing off on time of death, and sending someone out to inform him that it’s just too late. Too much blood loss, too much trauma, just _too much_. Too much to a body that for all its strength and size, can’t hold up the world. Loki always wondered if Thor would die before thirty. A very small part of him, one he would never admit to, had always wished Thor would take a bullet that would damage him enough to force his retirement, but not enough to kill him. A bullet in the spine, in the knee, something to ground him. But then, he still could have drugged himself to death that way, or maybe just combusted from frustration. 

Thor had always been active, driving Loki mad with his need to constantly move. He was always bigger and stronger than other boys his age, always chomping at the bit to take up a new activity. At the time, Thor’s energetic outlook had often been irritating, but now he sort of misses his bouncy, disheveled brother, his mane of golden hair always in need of a brush. He’d been optimistic, and a little goofy, boisterous but kind in his own direct way. Happy. And Loki was happy too, now that he thinks back; while he preferred the shade, Thor was always eager for the spotlight, ready with a wild tale accompanied by hand-gestures, and that dynamic always worked well for the two of them, most of the time. 

Loki remembers those quieter days, when Thor was softer, gentler, his deep empathy showing through when it was really needed. He remembers tripping in a rainstorm while running after Thor’s friends on the way home from school. He’d been soaked, shivering, out of breath and suddenly face-first in some dirt, struggling to pull himself up while the rain pelted down. And Thor had sent his friends on as casually as could be, walking back to pick him off the ground. Loki had protested, of course, but Thor has insisted on carrying him home, not making a fuss about it. And since there was no-one to see them, Loki had agreed, climbing onto his larger brother’s back. That had been a long day, and a tiring one, and it had been nice just to rest for a minute. Neither of them had ever spoken of it, not even to their parents who had come home to discover both boys wrapped in towels and drinking hot-chocolate while they worked on their school assignments. 

Simple days, when careers and futures hadn’t been part of conversation. It had always hung in the air that someday they were expected to learn about the company and take up their father’s mantel, but for so long that seemed impossibly distant. Thor was never suited for desk work, though. Thor can do anything if he puts his mind to it, but he wouldn’t have been happy. 

_We have lots to talk about, when we speak again..._ Loki stares at his fingers, bruised and smeared with blood. He should book a hotel, get clean, find something to eat, and get some rest, but he can’t bring himself to move from this chair. Not until he knows that his brother is alive. Not until he sees Thor’s stupid face one more time. Then maybe he can sleep, and scrape together any care for himself. _He needs to know._ Thor needs to know about the company, about the guns. 

Of course, there’s more to talk about than that. If they just sat down to catch up, could they do it? Just talk about... life? Now-Thor and Then-Thor suddenly seem more different than they ever have. 

There have been glimmers of Then-Thor, though: recently, with Steve. Soft smiles, something vulnerable and intimate. New and undeveloped, yes, but... warm. Of course, Loki is jealous. Just a little. _They barely know each other. He’s my brother. I love him more._ That would be bullshit if he tried to say it, of course, because though not untrue, what the fuck has he done to show it? Besides, they’ve never been on the same wave-length anyway, so maybe what Thor needs is someone who can get through to him. Loki tries not to resent Steve too much, even though it’s difficult. Steve knows nothing of Thor, of how he used to be, of what Thor has left behind by choosing this path. 

_Steve saved him._ Steve could have run while he had the chance, but he didn’t. He took a stand at the cost of his own safety, with little hope of success. That’s worth something, isn’t it? _Another moron. He’s perfect for you._ Loki snorts to himself, hoping those two idiots will encourage each other to look after themselves, and not in-turn encourage the stupid things. _There’s a fine line between bravery and stupidity..._ And whichever one Steve displayed, it probably saved Thor’s life, so does it matter? 

It’s only been an hour when Loki checks his watch, so he reasons he can get a few things done and be back before this brother is out from under the knife, banishing the other outcome from his mind with unusual stubbornness – generally, he prefers to approach with realism and reason, but not today. Today, he’ll have faith that his bull-headed brother will pull through this to annoy him another day. The one true constant in Loki’s life is that Thor will always annoy him, at least a little. 

Loki has some clean clothes brought up from his London residence to a hotel room near the hospital. Upon a few moments’ pause, he calls Fury and tells him there are two rooms ready for Steve and his family, too. 

After a hot meal and a tumultuous nap, Loki can’t keep away from the hospital any longer, and strides right back to the waiting room, his phone in-hand. He’ll sit here for as long as it takes, and the longer he waits there in silence, the surer he is that Thor is alive. It helps quell his anxiety, enough that his leg stops bouncing and his mind stops reeling. Whatever shape his brother is in, he can make it through so long as he’s alive. 

\-- 

It’s several hours before someone comes to fetch him. “Sir?” a nurse pokes her head through the door and pads a bit closer, keeping a polite distance. 

Loki jolts sitting, tearing himself away from his state of partial lucidity, teetering on the edge of sleep as he has been for the past couple of hours. He quickly rises to his feet. 

“We’re finished,” she says kindly, shutting the door behind her. “You can see him now, if you like.” 

Yes, of course he wants to see his brother. Loki smooths out his shirt and straightens, following her briskly down the hallway to the ICU. “How is he?” he asks when he has the strength to speak calmly and business-like, so as not to alert her of how anxious he is.

“Resting,” she explains. “We were able to remove all the debris from his shoulder, but he needs to rest before we do more work on it.” 

“Will he be alright?” It’s a hasty question, one he can’t expect a solid answer to, but it blurts out of his mouth anyway. 

“It’s too early to say anything conclusive,” she replies patiently. “Give it a couple of days for him to fight off the infection and recover from hypovolemic shock, and we’ll know more. Just... be prepared that it looks bad.” 

That’s as much as he can hope for. At the very least, it doesn’t seem like Thor is hanging by a thread. He’s in rough shape, not even breathing on his own because his lung collapsed, but it sounds like he’ll pull through in time. That might take weeks, months maybe, but he’ll get through this. 

The nurse opens the door to the dimly-lit room and shuts it behind him, leaving him some privacy. Loki approaches the bed as quietly as he can, as if the slightest noise could wake his brother, which he knows is impossible – Thor is dead to the world, completely unconscious thanks to the powerful medications pumping into him, and his depleted strength. Loki reads the labels meticulously, as if it’s his job to make sure the professionals are doing their jobs correctly, as if he knows better than they do simply because Thor is his brother. _His._

_His,_ but he can’t look down. They’re finally alone together, in this isolated room where they’re guaranteed some seclusion until the nurses come to do their regular checks, to make sure their patient is still alive. Loki looks at his feet and drags up the chair, sitting cautiously into it. Finally, he makes himself look up. 

Even in moments of weakness, Thor has always seemed strong. Physically, emotionally, he’s always been this pillar, something to rely on. A compass. Very few times has Loki ever seen his brother at a truly low point in every sense of the word. Thor rarely got sick, rarely slowed for anything, even during flu season insisting he keep up with his usual activities. Loki remembers trying to reason his brother out of going for his usual morning jogs while fighting a heavy sinus infection. Nothing could knock Thor down. Once or twice, he’d seen his brother cry, but those moments were so rare, and so brief. Their mother’s death, their father’s, a smattering of other times. During school sports, he could fall and skin his knees bloody, and just get back up and keep going like it never happened. He was indestructible, worthy of envy. Many did. Loki, too, for many years, until it became more obvious to him that their strengths were just different. 

Thor needed him. Once, when their parents were away, Thor had caught the flu, and it had finally knocked him down so hard that he was too tired to do much other than sleep. On their own, it had been Loki’s job to care for his brother, and the first time he’d ever seen Thor so... weak. For once, he’d been trying to convince Thor to get up, rather than to stay down, arguing with him that he needed to sit up and eat something, drink some water, go have a shower. But it had shown how much Thor trusted him, and valued his company, and Loki had to admit he’d enjoyed those more subdued moments with his brother. They’d watched television together, talked between Thor’s long naps, and stayed close even when nothing needed to be said. They’d grown closer still after that, even when Thor had leapt back to his usual antics. 

Even in the dim light, Loki can see how white Thor is. He barely looks alive, apart from the machines reassuring that he is. Loki brushes his brother’s forelock with his hand, the skin warm on his palm – it's another sign of life, that Thor’s body is still fighting the infection. 

“You and I have words to exchange,” Loki murmurs a warning. “Rest well, because I will not go easy on you. Do not think you are exempt from my wrath on any basis. I can wait as long as I must until you can take the full weight of what you deserve.” 

If they’d just stuck together from the beginning, none of this would have happened. They could have handled the company together, come to an agreement about what to do with it. Even though they disagree often, they would have made it work. If they hadn’t walked apart, Thor wouldn’t be so scarred, and he certainly wouldn’t be here. _I was supposed to look after you._ That’s what brothers do. Is this his fault? Loki snorts and grits his teeth, glaring at his brother as his chest tightens. 

The door clicks softly shut from behind. “How is he?” Fury. The director walks to the foot of the bed and stares down at the occupant, then over at Loki. 

“Only family is allowed in here,” Loki glares up at the new target of his anger.

“Steve wants to see him,” Fury replies calmly, but his voice is unusually tender. “He’s worried.” 

“He can wait,” Loki snaps. Maybe he should ask if Steve and the others are alright, but he can’t find the words, or the energy to say them. 

Fury looks like he wants to reply, but he just nods politely and looks back down at his employee. “I never meant for this to happen.” 

“But you did fuck-all to stop it,” Loki growls, even though he knows rationally that none of this was by design. Not Fury’s, at least. Fury cares about Thor, to some degree, and Thor is an adult capable of making his own choices. “How long was your organization infected before you noticed?” 

“Too long,” Fury admits. “But I noticed. That’s why I sent Thor on that mission, and no anyone else; he was the most skilled agent I could trust entirely. His skill set best suited what I needed.” 

“And he nearly died for it, more than once.” 

“Yes,” Fury agrees. “It’s a risk that comes with the job.” 

“And how many unnecessary risks did you allow him to take within that?” Loki challenges. 

“I challenged him, but he was always free to make his own choices. I did my best to keep an eye on him, but as you must know, he’s not the kind of person you can leash,” Fury says. “If he were, I wouldn’t have recruited him.” 

No, Thor could never be tethered. The only way to get him to obey was to make your ideas seem like his ideas. Loki was able to. He’s manipulated his brother into simple things like agreeing to watch a certain movie, but big things too, like not going to class when he was ill. He’d tried to manipulate Thor out of the job a couple of times in the past, but it never worked. By then, they were no longer as close, and Loki could no longer use that closeness and trust to his advantage. 

“What’s the diagnosis?” Fury asks. 

Loki glares a warning. “After all this, you want to know when you can have him back? Well you can’t.” 

Fury sighs and hangs his head a fraction of a centimeter. “I’m not asking because of that,” he says. “I’m only concerned. Besides, whether or not he comes back is his choice.” 

Unfortunately. Loki can only hope this will leave lasting damage that will make the decision for his stupid brother. Best case, Thor recovers fully and makes the decision on his own to quit. Worst case, he suffers long-lasting, serious damage to his body, but goes back to work anyway. Loki doesn’t know how well he can stop Thor from doing something like that, nor how far he’s willing to go. He’s already threatened abandonment, which Thor has yet to make a decision on, but Loki’s not sure he could truly follow through with that. Would it hurt more to get news of Thor’s death, maybe even be there to see him pass, or to return to his life not knowing the fate of his brother but always wondering if any misfortunes are his fault? 

“Have you had any rest?” Fury asks quietly. 

“I can take care of myself,” Loki snaps again. “I’m fine. I’d like some time with my brother, please. Alone.” 

Respectfully, Fury nods and walks off, closing the door behind him again. 

Once he’s alone, Loki leans back in his chair and rubs his face with a sigh. It’s probably selfish to keep his brother to himself, but right now he doesn’t have the energy to share. Steve deserves to see Thor, after everything the two of them went through, after Steve’s own efforts. The right thing to do would be to stand up and call Fury back, call a nurse, or go find Steve himself and let him know it’s okay to come in. 

But if they come, he won’t have this chance to speak without an audience, and he needs to say how he feels to Thor without worrying about anyone actually hearing. If he says it out-loud, he can take back his words, or add to them with no consequences. He can cry if he wants to, with no witnesses. “Fuck you...” he mutters, because it’s easy. “Fuck you, Thor. For leaving me with the company. For leaving me when mom died. For doing this shit to me. Do you even care about me? Fuck you, you monumental ass-hole.” 

Angry as he is, he can’t keep from taking Thor’s hand and squeezing it possessively. “You never called, and you never listened. I knew what was better for you, because you’re too stupid to take care of yourself. Fuck you.” 

He drops his head into his hands and mumbles ‘fuck you’ until the phrase is meaningless, until he has to admit that he is a little sad. Distraught even... maybe. Guilt-ridden too, but again, that’s a big ‘maybe’. If he cries a little now, he won’t have any tears left for later. If Thor sees him crying, his brother will look all sympathetic, and might cry too, and Thor needs his fluids inside him. He has none to spare. Loki is doing him a favor by handling his emotions now. 

By the time the nurse comes to do rotations, Loki is standing by the window, gazing down at the parking lot, pretending to ignore her while she gets to work. She won’t be able to tell he’s a little puffy-eyed from there, but the worst of it is out of his system, and he’s recovered enough that he can glance over his shoulder to inspect her work. He’s tempted to stand over her shoulder to make sure she’s taking care of his brother properly, but he has little place to make comments on that, and he knows better anyway. 

Nobody else tries to visit, though Loki suspects Fury has snuck in while he was asleep. Loki naps in intervals by the bed, and he walks to the cafeteria or down the block for meals. It helps him stay out of the nurses’ way when they come to tend to his brother. He showers in his hotel room, changes his clothes, and returns to the hospital. Upcoming company meetings are canceled, and tasks delegated to other trusted employees. Now it’s just a waiting game, waiting for his brother to give them the necessary signs that he’s getting better. He’s not getting worse, at least, though it takes a little for the improvements to be noticeable. For the first couple of days, he looks unchanged, like a corpse with a temperature. That’s a small blessing, Loki supposes, because it means Thor is relatively free of pain, as far as they can tell. So they let him have his healing sleep. Thor never does anything in small portions. He’s always been very much all-or-nothing. 

The days have blurred together when Thor starts to show signs of rousing. His lips shift around the tube, and his eyebrows occasionally draw together for a moment or two before stilling again. Loki immediately finds it more difficult to leave the room for any reason. He wants to be the first thing Thor sees, wants that moment all to himself. 

It’s rather anti-climactic when Thor finally does decide to open his eyes. The moment is brief, but he manages to slide his lids part way open, not really focusing on anything in particular. He focuses on his brother though, when Loki moves into his light of sight. “Thor?” There’s no telling how aware his brother is, but there seems to be recognition when Thor looks at him. That’s good enough. Loki finds his hands wrapped around Thor’s before he knows it, hanging on dearly until he’s certain his brother is asleep again, his system overwhelmed by drugs and the trauma it’s fighting. Fighting with the usual vigor Thor has always been known for. 

Sleep comes easier that night. It feels like there’s hope, but for what Loki’s not too sure. He’s not so sure of anything at the moment, just that both of them are going to live to see another day. Sometime in the future, the sun will shine on both of them, and not through a hospital window. 

It’s not long before Thor comes around again, not appearing to possess much awareness, but able to focus on his brother. As soon as some of the glaze in his eyes melts, he appears alarmed, but he relaxes when Loki takes his hand. Apparently, that’s all Thor needs, settling before words need to be spoken. There’s no fuss, so struggle; Thor just wraps his fingers around Loki’s hand and slowly, slowly falls asleep again in peace. 

They won’t be able just to sit there in silence for much longer: Thor is getting stronger, waking up for longer intervals, and starting to show more awareness. He’s anxious and confused, at least as far as Loki can tell. Soon that tube will come out, and then there won’t be much to prevent conversation. For some inexplicable reason, that idea stimulates fear beneath the relief. Yes, it’s fantastic that Thor is recovering, but Loki isn’t ready. His speech isn’t prepared – his _spirit_ isn’t prepared for their conversation that is long over-due, a conversation he knows must happen before Thor steps foot out of this building. Loki owes that much to his brother. 

But as the numbers hail further improvement, so much so that the doctors conclude Thor is strong enough to breathe by himself, and the ventilator is gradually replaced with an oxygen mask, Loki feels increasingly fidgety and on edge. There’s still time, still some healing required before Thor is well enough to engage more, but those barriers are starting to fall away. Loki finds the courage to stay because he can see that Thor is too weak even to keep his eyes open that long, and his throat is too swollen to speak. That won’t last long, and the improvement might be sudden if he knows his brother at all. 

Thor continues to improve, and in just two days he’s taken in for another round of surgery on his shoulder, and then moved out of the ICU. It’s been a week, though it doesn’t feel like it. Time has dragged on during those endless hours spent in silence at his brother’s bedside, and yet everything has blurred together that it almost feels like one single day. The lights are still kept down while Thor sleeps on, but even then Loki can tell his color has improved. The oxygen mask has been replaced with a cannula, hiding none of the bruising, or the pallor that remains. Thor is covered in bruises and bandages and a few scrapes still healing. He looks awful, but even then, it’s apparent that he’s closer now to life than death. Still, Loki stays, but Thor is barely situated in his new room before his face starts to twitch and his breathing increase – signs that he’ll wake up soon maybe properly this time. He’s moving his lips again as if to speak, something Loki dreads because he can’t be sure what will come out of his brother’s mouth, nor his own, and he’s _still_ not ready. 

So before he can find out what Thor’s first words to him will be, he leaves, making sure the others are informed that they can visit. Fury will keep Thor safe, and Steve will keep him company, take care of him – Loki doesn’t want his brother to be alone, but he’s just not ready for their conversation yet. It’ll head that way almost immediately, he knows it, even if he tries to keep things casual. Loki leaves the hospital to seek refuge in his hotel room as fast as he can, but with a heavy, aching heart. 


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for readin' y'all. We're not done just yet.

Thor has the vague awareness that somebody is there, but he can’t say for sure, because he can’t say what’s a dream, and what’s real. He _swears_ somebody is talking, but the voice sounds distant, and he can’t remember any of the words he thinks he picks up. His own name sounds like it’s spoken a few times, but he can’t be certain. Some of the talking is definitely coming from the jumbled worlds inside his head, but if he can’t make out of it, then does it really matter what’s real? 

That sure _sounds_ like Loki, more and more audible as he starts to pull out of his comatose state. He remembers the hiss of the ventilator in the background, of the effort it takes to breathe without as much help each time they work to wean him off the machine. The tube coming out is one of his more vivid memories, a clear sensation amidst the haze, Loki speaking to him amidst the other voices. But he couldn't say anything back, because he was too tired, and his throat too sore. Loki is here, though, always at his side for what little he remembers.

Loki hates him, but even so, Thor is distraught when the nightmare gains strength and makes him watch his brother’s death. It’s not so much the violence and gunshots and swarms of enemies that scare him, but the fact that they might keep him from his mission – and right now, that mission is to protect those he can. Thor is already ruined, so he might as well fight to protect those who aren’t. Like Steve. Steve is a civilian, untouched by the dark part of the world Thor often wades through. Steve is truly good, a brave and compassionate soul who deserves to live his life in peace. The dream kills Steve, too, and Thor just can’t save him. 

The dream kills Thor too, several times over, as only dreams can. But maybe this is what he deserves, to suffer for his failures. He abandoned his only living family member. While he thought he was at least doing some good for SHIELD, they were the enemy all along. 

Somewhere in his head he knows he’ll wake up. This is not a new process. Accidents happen, and Thor is prone to pushing himself. He can block out pain and keep going on pure stubbornness, until his body physically cannot continue no matter how hard he persists. When he wakes up, he’ll be alone, as he has been before. Fury might drop by once or twice, maybe even Nat or Clint if they aren’t busy, but otherwise he’ll be stuck by himself until he can be discharged. He always tries to leave as fast as he can, because at least at home he’s alone by choice. 

The nightmare is gaining traction, filling his head with shouting and shooting, everything moving too fast for him to follow, and quickly overwhelming him. He’s drowning, losing control, unable even to defend himself. Hands rip at him, dragging him along, and he’s too disoriented to resists. They’ll brutalize him endlessly, because in the dream, the body’s needs and limits can’t interfere. 

Inside the chaos, a voice not like the rest rises through. Some of the hands feel different to the others. At first, Thor thinks it’s part of the dream, until he realizes that those differences don’t belong. The voice gets louder, and the hands firmer. “Thor! Thor, wake up.” 

He heard those words clearly, but quickly forgets what they were. What does he need to do again...? 

“Come on, Thor, easy. Time to wake up. It’s okay. It’s not real.” 

It’s not the voice that doesn’t fit, but _Thor,_ and he quickly decides that he wants to be wherever that voice is coming from. If only he could get free... 

“It’s not real. Thor, it’s not real. It’s okay, we’re safe.” 

That voice is so convincing, so familiar, one he inherently trusts. His eyes fly open, and he’s staring into Steve’s face, already panting and sweating and so weak that Steve isn’t struggling at all to hold him steady. Steve’s hand is clamped firmly on his shoulder, keeping him down, his eyes full of relief and concern and a shimmer of unshed tears. Suddenly, everything is jarringly quiet; no gunshots, no yelling, just his own panting and the steady beep of what he quickly determines is his heartbeat on a monitor somewhere out of view. 

“Thor,” Steve breathes, “oh god.” Before Thor can get a good look at him, Steve is wrapping him in a cautious but eager hug, careful not to put pressure on any tender spots. “I thought you would never wake up...” he murmurs. 

_Me too..._ Steve is here. Steve is alive. He’s not alone. Steve is here. Thor swallows roughly and tries to speak, but his throat is so dry and sore that all he can get out is a quiet moan. 

“S-sorry,” Steve stammers, flying to grab something past Thor’s line of sight and leaning back with a cup in his hand. “Sorry, here. Drink, slowly.” He puts the straw between Thor’s lips. 

The water is sweet and cold and exactly what he needs. Thor drinks until the cup is empty, licking his lips. 

“Bad dream?” Steve asks kindly, putting down the cup and fixing the blankets with nervous fingers. In the dim light, and with Thor’s own blurred vision, it’s difficult to see Steve’s expression, though he’s struggling to process what little information he _can_ gather. His whole brain feels like it’s full of syrup, and his muscles made of lead. The pain is muted, but there’s a deep ache pulsing in a few broad areas: his leg, his chest, his shoulder, his head... “Thor...?” Steve prompts, moving in a bit closer. 

Oh, right. He nods and goes to rub his eyes, but he feels like a dying sea turtle trapped in a fishing net full of trash when he tries to lift his left arm, so many things start to come with him. The IV line, pulse ox, BP cuff... Meanwhile, his right is trapped in a sling, so he couldn’t move it if he wanted to. He squeezes his eyes shut and opens them again, trying to blink them clear, but everything feels disjointed. At least the lights are low enough to handle. 

“Here, I’ll be right back,” Steve touches his leg and walks away, quickly becoming a smudge. 

Thor sighs and shivers, recovering the last of his breath. His pulse has settled again. Now seems like a good time to try to get his bearings, so he has a look around. There’s not much to see in terms of his own body, covered in blankets, one leg propped up. There are a couple of chairs by the bed, a window with curtains drawn, and what he a presumes is a bathroom where Steve has just vanished, but as far as he can see this is a private room. And there’s no-one here but Steve... Worriedly, Thor looks around as he realizes he can’t remember how they got here. What’s the last thing he _does_ remember...? It’s foggy. He can barely remember what he was doing with Steve in the first place... They were running, driving... They fell in a river. They kissed. That _definitely_ happened... 

_SHIELD, HYDRA_.... The shootout in the parking lot... Loki was there. A few other people too, but Loki ran into the building with them. 

Where is Loki? Thor tries to sit up in the hopes that he might be able to see a bit more of the room, and that his brother might be here, but his inability to move quickly halts those plans. His coordination is shot, and his chest sparks with pain as he tries to fold himself upward. 

“Whoa there.” Steve suddenly appears beside him, holding him down again. “Where do you think you’re going?” 

Thor opens his mouth to give an explanation, but he can’t string the words together, so it comes out as a bit of a jumble. “I was... ah... Loki? Where...” His voice is so quiet and scratchy that he hardly recognizes it. 

“Loki was with you in the ICU,” Steve explains, sitting back in his chair and wiping the cool cloth he’s just fetched across Thor’s face. “He wouldn’t let any of us in... Sorry.” His eyebrows lift with apology. 

It doesn’t matter, since he can’t remember anything from that time anyway. “N-no...” he rasps. “S’okay. But where...?” 

Steve shrugs. “No idea, sorry. I haven’t seen him. As far as I know, he hasn’t been in since you were moved here.” He steadies Thor’s head with his other hand and washes his face clean. The cool water feels good on the warm skin, wiping away the remnants of the dream. 

“Is he... okay?” Thor swallows. “Everyone else...?” 

“Everybody’s okay,” Steve smiles reassuringly. “Just waitin’ on you, that’s all. 

“M’okay...” Thor automatically reassures back. 

“You will be,” Steve agrees, folding up the cloth and putting it aside. He takes Thor’s hand and rubs it comfortingly, though it’s not clear who’s meant to be more comforted. 

“S’everybody else?” Thor looks over Steve’s shoulder to the window, where he can see the sky is dark. “Your mom...” 

“She’s okay,” Steve replies, the relief heavy in his voice. “Fury got her and Buck away before HYDRA could find them. They’re back at the hotel sleeping.” 

Then why isn’t Steve with them? Thor frowns. “Should sleep.” 

“I will,” Steve promises gently. “But for now I’m gonna sit up with you.” 

That would be nice... Thor has so many questions, but everyone is alright, and that’s what matters. After pushing his body so hard, he finally feels like it’s caught up to him, and he has no strength for conversation. His questions can wait. He's already falling asleep again. 

“Get some rest,” Steve says, laying a hand on Thor’s hair and leaning over to kiss his forehead. “You’re going to be alright, I promise.” 

In Steve, he trusts, so he shuts his eyes and dispels all worry, not fighting the sleep that readily reclaims him. 

\-- 

There’s no way to know how much time has passed, but when Thor wakes up, he feels more like his body is his own, even if it’s not good for much. He’s in the same room, tucked under the same blankets, suffering from the same aches, but his brain can actually make thoughts. A little sun is leaking through the blinds. 

Someone is moving around by his head, wringing water out of something. A second later, Steve sits beside him again, the cloth in his hand, but he pauses when he sees Thor is awake. “Hey there. Sleep okay? You were dreaming again...” 

Thor doesn’t remember, but his body is shaking and covered in sweat again. He feels hot and cold at the same time, but it’s not as bad as it was. He nods wearily to Steve’s question. 

“Good. You look a little better,” Steve smiles, getting up and walking to the window to pull open the blinds. Light floods into the room, but it’s not too bright to handle, and Steve is easier to see now. 

Steve looks... off. Possible reasons float through Thor’s head but he can’t pin-point any of them. He still feels weak and lethargic. Not too weak to inspect his friend though, and he can tell that Steve is moving haltingly. His eyes are ringed with bruises behind a pair of glasses. “When... when did you get those?” he croaks. _How long did I sleep?_ Fuck, how long has it been? Steve mentioned the ICU, so it could be... days. Two days? Five days? Twelve days? No matter how hard he tries, he can’t think of any clue to tell him how much time has passed. Actually, he’s not sure where he’s counting from, given there might be a couple extra days before he even got to the hospital that he simply can’t remember. The lines are fuzzy. 

“Hey, steady,” Steve senses his distress and takes his hand. “Yeah, I got some new ones.” 

Right. Steve’s glasses got broken. Thor remembers seeing them on the server room floor, smashed useless. Rollins tried to kill Steve. “Are you okay?” He searches Steve’s face, remembering the other man was bleeding. There’s evidence of the fight in Steve’s face, a bruise in the last stages of healing on his jaw and cheek bone, a pink line on his forehead that indicates where a cut has sealed over and has begun to fade. Even the dark half-moon that Thor swears he remembers marring Steve’s eye is gone, only a faint trace of discoloring left if he really looks. Otherwise, Steve is dressed in jeans and a hoodie, and he looks fine, at least in the sense that his body isn’t damaged. 

“I’m fine,” Steve smiles, but he doesn’t _look_ fine, despite Thor’s inspection. He wishes he could figure out what was wrong. 

Right now, he’s still reeling about the fact that he doesn’t feel grounded in time, fighting against the anxiety this uncertainty is inducing. It’s too tough to stay calm, especially since he can’t think straight and work his way logically through the issue. “How long did I sleep?” 

“Through the night,” Steve says calmly, bringing the chair as close as he can and turning it sideways so he can lean on the mattress and completely face Thor. He neatly folds the cloth and wipes it down Thor’s face and neck again. It feels good, soothing. “It’s almost lunch time.” 

Thor sighs and shuts his eyes for a moment, enjoying the feeling of cool water once again separating him from the dream. Steve is ever kind and diligent, taking his time. He carefully moves down the blankets and wipes Thor’s lower ribs and belly until every groove is clean. Air on his damp, exposed body makes Thor shiver, but Steve is already drying him with another cloth and promptly tucking him back under his warm blankets. 

“Better?” Steve asks, unfolding the cloth just to fold it again. 

Thor hums his reply alongside a nod. “Steve...?” he swallows, and Steve is immediately reaching for the glass of water bringing the straw within reach of Thor’s mouth and leaning in with raised eyebrows. Thor takes a sip of water to clear his throat. “How long have I...?” 

“You were in the ICU for a week,” Steve explains. “And you only got out about a day ago. You’re in the clear, but things are still pretty bad, so just... take it easy, okay? You’re in rough shape.” 

That, he can believe. A week sounds like a long time, but it’s plausible, and now that he knows, he feels better about that lost time. When Steve squeezes his hand, he squeezes weakly back, obediently drinking some more water. 

“But I meant it when I said you’ll be okay,” Steve reiterates. “I don’t know all the details, but I know enough to say that.” 

Thor wasn’t as worried about that part, but it’s good to know. All his limbs are attached, even if half of them aren’t so useful. It’s Steve’s safety he’s worried about. “What about HYDRA?” he asks, doing his best to stay calm. 

“Fury’s got it under control,” Steve promises. “He rounded up everybody he was sure he could trust, and they’re keeping us safe while hunting down what’s left of HYDRA. The base is cleared out, and they’re hunting down whoever’s left. HYDRA’s got people all over the world, but they won’t reach us here. We safe.” 

Fury will protect them, protect Steve. HYDRA won’t reach Steve here, which is a massive relief; if they come, Thor’s not sure he can get up and fight. Actually, he’s pretty sure he’d struggle to hold the glass of water. Tomorrow he’ll feel better. Perhaps selfishly, he can’t bring himself to do much more than enjoy Steve’s company. For now, they just sit together in the peace of the hospital room, Steve holding the cup so Thor can sip from it at his leisure. 

The water is almost gone when the nurse comes by to do her rounds, and she’s pleased to see he’s finally awake. She asks him a few questions while she checks his IV, and kindly, tactfully explains a few surface details without going in-depth about his condition, which he appreciates; it’s not information he needs to know right now, and he wouldn’t know what to do with it. 

As she leaves, the lunch lady and Steve’s family arrive at once. Things are moving too fast for Thor to follow, but in a few minutes everyone is sitting around the bed passing food between themselves, Steve leaving his sandwich in his lap so he can help Thor first. 

That is, until Mrs Rogers tugs the tray across the rolling table to her side, away from her son. “Eat,” she orders Steve firmly, peeling the lid off some yogurt and dipping in the spoon. Though at first reluctant to obey his mother, Steve quickly gives away how hungry he is as he gathers momentum. 

Thor briefly considers trying to fend for himself so that Sarah can eat too, but he doesn’t fancy being told off either, so he lets himself relax while she inclines the bed. She spoons some yogurt into his mouth, and they all sit there quietly for a few mouthfuls while they eat. Feeling a bit too dazed to participate once conversation starts up, Thor is more than happy to keep busy eating. He quickly loses track of how much food he’s actually eaten as Sarah alternates the yogurt with banana, buttered toast, and more water. 

“Maybe we should go see the London Eye before we go, huh Steve?” Bucky suggests. “I mean, we flew here for free. Maybe Fury will let us.” 

That doesn’t sound like the best idea to Thor, but if they’re protected by Fury’s men, and they take necessary precautions, they’ll likely be fine. Don’t they deserve a break, after everything they’ve gone through? Thor chews his banana pensively, though he has no input to give. 

Steve suddenly looks very interested in his sandwich wrapper, carefully folding it so the crumbs are trapped in the wax paper, pressing neat creases into it. He looks up at Bucky as the silence draws on awkwardly and gives his friend a weak smile and a non-committal hum. 

“Some fresh air might do you good,” Sarah adds. “Go ask Fury. At least go to the hotel and get some rest.” 

“I’m not tired-” 

“Steve.” Ah, so that’s where Steve learned that tone from. Sarah commands her son in voice that dares him to argue. “James, go ask Mr. Fury what he thinks about a short walk, would you?” 

Bucky is on his feet immediately, waiting patiently for Steve to follow. “Come on, Stevie. We can watch TV if he says no.” 

“I’ll stay here,” Sarah reassures. “Go.” 

Steve looks between his family members, then down at Thor, his eyebrows lightly upturned and his jaw wobbling slightly. He squeezes Thor’s hand apologetically, his grip wavering. “I’ll be back,” he promises. 

Thor smiles encouragingly. “I’m not going anywhere,” he promises. Steve looks like he needs to catch up on months’ worth of rest, and it can’t be comfortable to sleep in these chairs. 

Not happy at all, Steve gets out of his chair, Bucky immediately resting a hand on his back and leading him out of the room. Thor watches the two friends leave, his sigh of defeat gushing out in time with Sarah’s. Poor Mrs Rogers looks tired too. Not quite as sleep-deprived as her son, but easily as worn-down. She sweeps the crumbs onto the tray and rolls the table out of the way. 

Thor can see the week in her face, even though the rest of her is neatly put together, and she holds herself with strength. Despite her calm and stoic exterior, Thor can see how stressed she is, and honestly he can’t blame her. “Go with them,” he offers. “You need not stay here on my behalf.” _I’m not fabulous company. And I’m not going to do anything stupid, or die._

“They’ll be fine together,” Sarah says. “I think they need some time alone anyway. And Steve would be happier if you weren’t alone. So would I.” 

Thor would be happier too. “Thank you,” he whispers, smiling faintly but genuinely touched. 

“No, thank you,” she squeezes his good shoulder and returns the smile. “For taking care of my son. It was a little easier knowing you were out there with him when you two left the safe-house together. I think the least I can do is make sure you’re alright.” 

“I will be,” Thor promises. When, he doesn’t know, because nobody’s told him much of anything, but he knows he’ll be back on his feet eventually. “What about you? This must have been... frightening.” 

“We escaped the worst of it,” Sarah reassures. “James and I were with the director for most of the time, and he kept us safe. I can’t speak for Tony, but he seems alright as well...” She trails off a little and breaks eye contact. She quickly looks back up and repositions her smile. “Nevermind. You don’t need to worry about us.” 

“It’s Steve, isn’t it...” 

Her smile immediately saddens, but she can’t hold back the truth from him. “I don’t know what to do,” she admits quietly. “He doesn’t sleep. It was worse when he couldn’t see you, and he’s gotten a little since you were moved here, but he’s just... I can’t help him. I feel so helpless. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t put this on you...” 

“No,” Thor murmurs with an objecting frown. “No. I will do what I can.” 

“He’s a stubborn one,” Sarah warns, her smile lifting a little as tears gather in her eyes. “God almighty...” 

“I know,” Thor agrees, his own smile brightened. “And if he weren’t so stubborn I might be dead.” 

“Don’t push yourself,” Sarah pleads. “I’m not going to sit here and lecture you about how you need to take care of my son, because I have no reason to doubt that you will. We’ll take care of you, too.” 

It’s more of an order than an offer. “I will not,” Thor promises. For the first time after a mission, he’s got a group to lean on, and despite being a new experience, it feels natural. They’ll take care of each other. None of them are alone, and Thor has no inclination to resists against what’s being offered to him, at least not yet. Maybe when he feels better he’ll have the energy to protest and insist he can get by on his own. 

True to her offer, Sarah stays with him, turning on the television at low volume so it won’t keep him awake if he’s tired, while she reads a nature magazine. Nurses come and go to check on him, and Sarah prompts him to drink at regular intervals. Halfway through an episode of _Would I Lie_ _To_ _You_ , he drifts off, only to be woken in the evening for dinner, which Sarah helps him through while they talk about casual topics. He doesn’t have much energy to put up a conversation, so he mostly stays quiet, eating while Sarah tells him a few light-hearted stories about her co-workers, or about Steve. When the nurses come to do their rounds, they change his dressings, and he tries not to pay too much attention. All he needs to know is that he’s getting better, and the antibiotics are defeating the infection. Sarah sits on his left and slides her slender but strong, calloused hand into his. The medication helps, but it still hurts to be moved, and he finds himself taking up her silent offer of comfort, lightly squeezing her hand. 

Painful as it was, it quickly fades. As he starts to fall asleep again, she reclines the bed and tucks him in, and he slurs a quiet thank-you. Without any hesitation, as if he were her own son, she strokes his hair. It’s a pleasant thing to fall asleep to, and likely what keeps his nightmares at bay despite the lessening fuzziness of drugs. 

\-- 

Thor is woken up sometime in the middle of the night, not by his own nightmares but by something else; he doesn’t know if it’s the slight shaking of the bed, the soft sounds of distress coming from the direction of his knees, or some kind of sixth sense picking up on the atmosphere of the room. Whichever rouses Thor doesn’t matter, because he’s quickly made aware of the issue as his eyes adjust to the darkness. 

There’s a huddled shape sat at his bedside, curled in a chair, leaning on the mattress by his legs – Steve. His long limbs are awkwardly folded up, his head pillowed on his arms, and his body shivering as he breathes like he’s just been drowned. 

If he strains, Thor can reach Steve’s head. In an effort to get closer, he struggles to lever himself sitting, but the bed is too far reclined, and the pain in his back and chest and shoulder quickly stops him. Not to mention, he hasn’t used his muscles or bent his joints much in the past week that they’re stiff and reluctant to obey. This will have to do. Thor rubs Steve’s hair. “Steve...” he clears his throat. “Steve, wake up.” If this doesn’t work, he’s out of options, but Steve stirs. Determinately, he moves his injured leg off the pillows and nudges Steve’s shoulder with it. 

Steve jumps, his head shooting up with a stifled yelp and his posture quickly solidifying. He stares at Thor as if he’s been caught in a murder, swallowing. “Thor...” 

“What are you doing here?” Thor asks quietly. “I thought you were... were supposed to be back... at the hotel.” 

Steve straightens up the chair clasping his shaking hands together a little too tightly, trying to sit casually. He shrugs. “I wanted to come back.” 

“Steve...” Even if there were a chance of convincing Steve to go back, Thor’s not sure he has the needed energy, but he has to try. “You should go back and rest. I promise I’ll be alright.” Thor would rather Steve leave him alone to get a proper sleep, than stay here running himself ragged. 

It’s tough to read Steve’s expression in the darkness, but his voice is hoarse and quivering, rising in pitch as he replies, as if under accusation. “Why, you don’t want me here?” 

“No, no Steve...” Thor takes a few deep breaths, struggling to find the air he needs to say all he wants to say. Like this, he’s powerless. “I did not mean that.” 

Steve has already deflated, hanging his head guiltily. “Sorry...” he croaks. “I didn’t mean that either...” 

Thor flips his hand over invitingly. “Come here,” he offers gently, hoping Steve can see his smile. “It’s alright.” 

“I didn’t mean to wake you up,” Steve shakes his head, glancing at the hand but not taking it. His voice is taking on a tense quality that warns of approaching tears. 

“It’s alright,” Thor coaxes. “Steve... come here. It’s alright.” Driven by a growing desperation, he’s moving without thinking, trying to sit so he can get closer. The pain it causes him is worth it though, because the sound he makes is the magic spell that brings Steve immediately to his side. A badly-quivering hand slides into his. 

“Take it easy,” Steve pleads. 

Thor surveys his bed, and he’s no expert at math, but he reckons Steve will fit if they overlap. “I admit your company would be pleasurable,” he says. “But only if you lay with me.” 

“Thor-” 

“Or I will call the nurse, and ask her to send you away,” Thor threatens. “There is room. You won’t hurt me.” 

Steve looks torn, but he’s been backed into a corner, and has no choice but to take off his shoes and survey the bed like it’s a puzzle. “If you’re sure...” 

“Certain,” Thor responds confidently, lifting his arm. 

As if the world might end if he makes a wrong move, Steve climbs over the railing and lifts the blankets, sliding under them and slotting his body against Thor’s. He’s long, but thin enough to fit against Thor’s ribs, head pillowed on Thor’s good shoulder and one arm thrown over Thor’s belly. Thor lowers his arm around Steve’s shoulders and rubs his back with his thumb, dropping his head to the side so he can kiss Steve’s hair. With a heavy sigh, Steve nestles closer, shaking like a blade of grass in a gale. 

“Better,” Thor murmurs. 

“Are you sure this is okay?” Steve whispers, lifting his head to look over at Thor. He looks particularly gaunt in the shadows. 

Thor nods and kisses his forehead. “Absolutely. This is comfortable.” 

“Yeah...?” Steve drops his head. 

“Indeed. Now sleep.” _You’re safe. I’m here with you. Fury will protect us while I can’t, but I will keep the nightmares from you as well as I can. We can talk later._ But before then, Steve needs some rest, deserves it. _The mission_ _isn’t_ _over until everyone comes home._

\-- 

Thor decides not to think too much about how much better he sleeps when he isn’t alone, and that if he does have a nightmare, he can shake it off far faster than he’s used to when there’s someone there to help. It’s not just him who benefits; Steve wakes up looking better too, the rings around his eyes not so pronounced, though he’s still quiet and stays as close as he can even after he’s left the bed. 

There isn’t much _time_ to think about last night, because soon people are coming and going from the room; Sarah comes with breakfast for Steve, breakfast is brought for Thor too, and nurses start their routine checks while explaining to him that he has some appointments scheduled. Most of it flies over his head, and he ends up just nodding in a blur while Sarah feeds him oatmeal and takes in the information on his behalf. Thor generally doesn’t bother himself with the details, but he has to admit it’s reassuring to know _someone_ is paying attention. 

They take some bloodwork, and after a taste of the hard work and lengthy therapy that awaits him, he’s being helped out of bed and into a wheelchair, the process underlining just how bad of a shape he’s in. Frankly, he’s lost track of whose job is which, but one of the specialists is reassuring him that it’ll come back to him, he just needs to get over the initial hump.

The next few hours are packed with tests and scans, Steve and Sarah never out of reach. Of all the hands constantly touching him, it’s good to have a familiar pair in there where possible, and it’s good to have Sarah to lessen the burden on him when information starts coming his way. She’s the one who asks questions when they take x-rays, an ultrasound of the blood vessels in his shoulder, and an MRI for who-the-fuck-knows-what. It’s exhausting, but all he has to do is follow instructions while everything else is taken care of. With a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, he finds himself napping between tests, but not before Steve is giving him something to drink, dutifully keeping him hydrated. 

When everything is finally over, the results are sent to be examined. This has really taken it out of him. None-the-less, he finds his energy revitalized enough to spend some time with Steve when his friend takes him into the sunny court-yard for lunch. Sarah leaves them some privacy, kissing the top of Steve’s head and squeezing Thor’s shoulder as she leaves. 

Steve parks the wheelchair by a bench where the sun will be at their backs and sits, inspecting the lunch they picked up from the cafeteria on the way. If Thor is starving, then so must be Steve – Steve's been on his feet for hours. _You must be exhausted._ Those dark circles are suddenly just as dark as they were, and better visible in the daylight, but Steve carries on casually as if he didn’t look like walking insomnia. He peels the wrapper off a muffin and puts it in Thor’s hand, reaching in for another for himself. 

It’s good to get some sunlight and fresh air, a change of scenery, and a taste of freedom. Thor doesn’t look forward to the time he’s due to stay here until he can go home, but even then, the sooner he leaves the more likely he is to need help. He can’t just hop on a plane and fend for himself on the Australian coast. _I can. I can take care of myself._ Maybe... but it hits him that that’s not really what he wants. Where will he go when he’s discharged, though? SHIELD is gone, so he can’t return there and live in one of the in-building rooms. 

“Long day, huh?” Steve smiles at him sympathetically, taking the top off a bottle of orange juice and putting it to Thor’s lips. 

The cold, sweet fluid washes down his muffin nicely. Thor nods, licking his lips. “Not much longer than yours, I’m sure.” 

“You did all the hard work,” Steve shakes his head, taking a sip for himself. “Tests aren’t fun.” 

“I’m certain I fell asleep in the MRI.” 

Steve laughs and rubs an apple on his shirt, taking a bite. “Yeah, you did. It was cute.” 

Thor frowns. “If you say so...” 

“Yeah, I do,” Steve smiles, leaning in and guiding Thor’s head toward him with soft fingers, kissing him fondly on the lips. He tastes fruity. 

Thor licks his lips to taste the transferred juice. “Sounds as if you’ve endured something similar...” 

“I got pretty sick a couple of times as a kid,” Steve admits, pausing his apple to fish one out of the bag for Thor. “I got pneumonia so bad I nearly ended up in the ICU. I felt like I was always being tested. I had a chest drain... It wasn’t fun.” He shakes his head. “Comparatively, it’s not that bad, but I know it sure helps not to be alone.” 

“Everything is worse when you’re a child,” Thor reasons, rubbing the apple on his gown, on one of the few spots of his body that doesn't hurt. “I have no doubt your experience was no less difficult.” 

Steve shrugs and tosses his apple core into the nearby trash, wiping juice off his fingers with a napkin. “I guess it’s all relative. You seem pretty calm...” 

“I have good company,” Thor agrees. “You are correct that it eases the stress. You’ve taken good care of me, though I worry you haven’t taken good enough care of yourself. Don’t overwork yourself for my sake.” 

Steve focuses on the bag in his lap and rummages for something else to eat. He has to be the worst liar Thor has ever met, struggling even to play off his difficulty responding to the simple statement. Eventually Steve gives over a wholly unconvincing smile. “I’m fine,” he promises. “I told you I’d stay.” 

“Staying doesn’t mean abandoning yourself,” Thor argues. “You’re allowed to rest. The last thing I need is to find you’ve collapsed and taken up a room beside mine, though I’m certain I could convince Fury to confine you to bed if necessary.” 

“I am resting, I promise,” Steve insists, holding up the bottle of juice, “and drinking.” He takes a big swig and hands it over. 

Thor takes the bottle and takes a drink, giving it back. “I don’t know long I will be here,” he says, hoping Steve will consider all the information before he makes his decision. Thor himself doesn’t know if he’ll be discharged in days or weeks from now. It’s too early to mark the calendar. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Steve doesn’t back down, making firm eye contact and holding it. A flash of his bright spirit shines in his tired eyes. “I’ll stay after, too. If you still want me to, of course...” 

“Steve,” Thor lunges on that trailing though. “Of course. But you have a life. You have –” 

“I can’t go back,” Steve cuts him off. “Not for a while at least... Fury says it’s not safe. We need to law low until he can track down the rest of HYDRA. It might take years until it’s safe for us to go home, Thor. And even if I could, I’m not just going to abandon you.” 

“Steve... you don’t owe me anything-” 

“Stop,” Steve snaps, raising his hands pleadingly. “Thor, please. Don’t give me any bullshit about your job, or whatever anyone deserves, or whatever. If you want me around, then I want to stay with you. It’s not to make things even. I just... It wouldn’t right to walk away.” 

Asking Steve to prioritize his own career over Thor is somewhat irrelevant, seeing as HYDRA has destroyed that option for now, but Thor can’t help but feel... overwhelmed. Touched, overjoyed, but concerned all the same. “Do not make a rash decision,” Thor pleads quietly. 

“I’m not,” Steve replies. “I thought about it. Been thinking about it all week. I want this. I don’t want us to just be what happened in the hotel. If... if you still want...” 

Yes, yes he does. Thor strikes out with more strength than he thought himself capable and grabs Steve’s hand, squeezing it tightly, the best way he can express that he so badly wants to explore whatever it is they’ve discovered. There will be time for that in the slowness that his recovery necessitates, and now that they aren’t being chased, they can take their time. “You did promise me the best sex of my life,” he says. “But before then, perhaps we should spend this time getting to know each other under better circumstances...” 

Steve flushes and beams at once. “So you do remember that...” 

Oh yes, he distinctly remembers Steve offering to tie him to the bed and fuck him as no-one ever has, if he wanted it. He remembers the bribe giving him the extra strength he needed to keep walking. “Clear as day,” he smiles. “I quite look forward to what you’re capable of. Rest assured you’ll receive the same as soon as possible.” 

“Hey, take it easy,” Steve chuckles. “Let’s take it slow.” 

“Of course,” Thor smiles. “If you’re certain you still want me. I’m unemployed.” 

“Me too,” Steve smiles back, leaning in for another kiss. He takes his time, wary of Thor’s suffering lung capacity, but no less loving as he has been before. More-so, even, filling the breaks between the kisses with rubs into the back of Thor’s head. “Back to bed for you,” he murmurs into Thor’s mouth. “The faster you get better, the sooner you can leave, and I’m not doing anything to you where a nurse might walk in. Or my mom. Or Fury. Or... anyone. Plus I’m pretty sure nobody would appreciate cleaning that up.” 

“You give good incentives to be a good patient,” Thor smiles. “I shall be outstanding.” 

“Then I'll give you a fitting reward as soon as you break out of here,” Steve smiles, pleased. 

That’s a wonderful thought to mull on. Thor thinks about the proposition as Steve wheels him back to his room and helps him into bed. A nurse comes by to make sure he’s properly connected to everything, and he falls asleep before she leaves, completely worn out by the day’s activities, but at ease with Steve’s hand in his. 

\-- 

Despite being so taxing, all that moving around has made him feel more awake. It’s time to start the grueling process of getting back on his feet, and he’s ready. Steve is ready too, clearly still sleep-deprived, but in slightly better spirits. This time it’s Bucky who comes along to help, since he’s stronger and larger than Sarah, and there are some strenuous activities on the schedule: more appointments, another round of physical and respiratory therapy, discussions with specialists about the plan for his recovery. Another surgery for his shoulder is booked for a couple of days from now. 

Steve is almost always with him for every minute he’s awake. Sometimes Sarah is there too, or Bucky, or Tony. Fury and the other agents, Hill, Nat, and Clint stop by occasionally to see how things are going. They’re very busy, understandably, making sure everyone is safe, while trying to track down the remnants of HYDRA. No details are given, and Thor doesn’t ask because of the presence of civilians – the last thing they need is to worry about this crisis longer than they already have. 

Amidst it all, Thor is never alone, never without someone to help him adjust his position if he wants to, open containers he can’t manage, move between his bed and his wheelchair as necessary, and stay close by throughout the jumble of information constantly coming his way as one specialist blurs into the next. Amidst it all, there’s hardly any time to worry about _where_ he’ll go when he finally is discharged, which appears to be closer than anyone thought it would be. Especially after the next surgery, which leaves him weak, groggy, and extra sore for hours after, but gives the doctors more information about his recovery. His arm will heal, but his mobility is likely to be hampered. By how much, he’ll have to wait a few weeks in a sling to find out. The old injuries newly disturbed in his knee won’t fully heal either, but if he takes it easy and gives it the best chance, he shouldn’t need anything else for it. 

The wound in his back is still incredibly sore, but his damaged lung is healing well, and he’s swiftly taken off oxygen not long after managing a short walk across the room with support on either side and a brace on his leg. As he starts to leave the wheelchair behind for a crutch and Steve’s protective arm around his waist, it’s obvious that discharge isn't far away. Loki is still paying for the hotel, but that can’t be forever, and Thor can’t fly back to Australia until he’s in better shape, and he’s finished with his physical therapy sessions. 

It’s been two weeks since he woke up, and he can get out of bed by himself, albeit tentatively. He’s set to be discharged today, and as pleased as he is, he’s still not sure what the plan is. Fury is looking for a safe place to put them up, but he’s not confident that any of their safe-houses are truly safe anymore. _So long as we’re together, it does not matter – a hotel will be fine._ Thor is fine with staying there for as long as they need to, knowing everyone will be close. After being cared for by Steve’s family for so long, they already feel like his family, too. Thor has no problem staying with them, looks forward to it, in fact. Sarah’s watchful, motherly presence. Bucky’s cheerful disposition and easy comradery. Tony’s sparkling wit and playful sarcasm. All of them kind, welcoming him into their fold like he always belonged there. As if he and Steve have consummated their relationship with marriage instead of a hasty blow-job in a B&B. But then, Thor supposes, they’ve put their lives on the line for each other, so it’s more than that. Steve’s _proven_ it’s more than sex, because Thor is in no shape for sex whatsoever, but Steve is still here, eager and happy, invested. 

That’s not to say Thor doesn’t still look forward to his reward, though. It’s going to feel so good, if he and Steve can manage a moment to themselves... Those two hotel rooms are currently occupied by four people. It may simply be a matter of asking very directly if they can just... have the evening. 

On the morning of discharge, some spare dressings and a page of instructions are given straight to Sarah, who reassures she’ll take care of the last few days of covering and cleaning Thor’s shoulder. Steve has already taken it upon himself to make sure he knows the exercises Thor needs to be doing, and what his limits are, though Thor tried to at least pay attention for that. With further appointments scheduled for down the road, Steve approaches with some folded clothes and a pleased smile on his face. 

“You look unusually smug,” Thor comments, sitting on the edge of the bed so Steve can help him put on some jogging pants. 

Steve shrugs, ever the bad liar. He straps the brace around Thor’s leg and holds up a loose-t-shirt. “Nothin’,” he attempts casually, feeding the sleeve over Thor’s injured arm first. “You just look good, that’s all.” 

“I feel good,” Thor smiles. He still feels weak and sore, is easily worn out, and needs help with most of the things he can actually manage, but he feels _good._

“Good,” Steve smiles back, smoothing out the shirt and fitting the sling over top. He does up the straps and wraps a jacket around Thor’s shoulders, kneeling to put a pair of sneakers on his feet. He straightens and comes closer for a kiss. “Ready to go? I have a surprise for you.” 

“I knew it,” Thor smiles. 

“Was I that obvious?” Steve smiles bashfully, lowering the bed so Thor can slide off without dropping to the floor, and handing him his crutch. “Come on. We can’t leave the taxi driver waiting.” 

Curiously, Thor limps after Steve as quickly as he’s able, which is still rather slow. Steve wraps an arm around his waist and proudly leads him down the hallways that have become familiar. The staff say goodbye, and Thor waves back as the elevator doors slide shut. For once, that taxi won’t taking him to the airport. 

Steve catches his smile. “Nice to be free, huh?” 

Free-ish, though Thor’s not so concerned about how tied down he’ll be. But he nods because it _is_ nice to be out. The exit is just up ahead, welcoming him back into the world. Steve pushes the button to open the door and guides him through, his grin only widening. 

Thor doesn’t think much of Steve’s exuberance until he sees the car parked on the curb, and the man waiting by it, staring impatiently at his watch. The car itself isn’t familiar, but Thor’s heart leaps the moment he sees it, because it’s just the kind he’d expect Loki to own: a sleek white Mercedes. Loki looks up from his watch and spots them just a few feet away, freezing with his lips slightly parted and his face trapped between a number of expressions. Thor can’t go much faster than this, even though he wants to, but before he can call his brother, Loki is running to close the gap. Thor doesn’t get a chance to read his brother’s expression as it finally decides on something, because Loki is already wrapped around him in a strong, unabashed hug. 

Steve lets go to give them space, and Thor rests his weight on his good leg so he can wrap his arm around his brother’s back and squeeze in return. “Loki...” he rasps. 

“Fuck you,” Loki murmurs into his neck. “You bastard.” 

“Steve called you a taxi driver,” Thor whispers, resting his head on his brother’s shoulder. 

Loki actually laughs, and it barks out a little hoarsely. “Oh god, Thor... You look like absolute shit.” 

“You’re the rudest taxi driver ever,” Thor laughs back. 

“Come on,” Loki shakes his head and draws back, looking his brother up and down and pulling himself together. The relief never fades though, nor does the small smile on his lips. Thor can’t help but grin like an idiot either, nor can he be bothered to insist that he can walk fine by himself as Loki takes his arm and helps him toward the car. They’re close, and that’s what matters. 

Sarah is already in the back seat waiting for them, and Steve slides in to join her while Loki helps Thor into the passenger side and fusses over the seat controls. Tony and Bucky have already been brought to Loki’s London house, where they’re all welcome to stay as long as they like. 


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I had some of this stuff planned a little better until I got to it, so I'm a little skeptical about of my choices. I actually considered ending in this chapter because I was so unsure, but I decided to push through and try to wrap this up without being hasty.

In one of Loki’s massive homes, they have their choice of rooms. Of course, Thor is confined to the first floor, and apparently ‘they’ does not include him; Loki has already chosen a room for him, and it’s apparent his brother has taken some time to set it up, though he makes no mention of it. The dresser is full of clothes in Thor’s size and style preference, the en-suite bathroom is fully stocked with towels and supplies, and the large nightstand is covered in paperbacks. It’s the closest bedroom to the kitchen and living area, and Loki’s own room is just down the hall. 

Here in the English countryside, relatively isolated, they’ll be safe. The hospital and the town aren’t too far away, so it’s not far to go for necessities or appointments. Loki has agreed to drive him to every single one. 

It’s not safe for them to walk around too much with HYDRA still out there, but Loki’s land is large enough that they won’t feel so confined. There are large gardens to explore, and a field full of horses out back, which are friendly and well-trained, not to mention impeccably groomed. Seeing them grazing when the car pulled up made Thor want to go for a ride, but he knows his body wouldn’t handle the jostling. He can still go down and say hello though. 

Later. Loki is pointing strictly into the room. “Bed,” his brother orders. 

“I’ve been in bed all day.” _All of three weeks, really._

“Then you will survive a few more hours,” Loki grabs him by the arm and sternly guides him over to it. Steve jogs ahead and folds back the covers, reaching to adjust the pillows only to find they’ve already been arranged. 

“I feel fine,” Thor whines, resisting. 

“You’ve gone white.” 

“I’m just tired.” 

“Then bed.” 

“Not _that_ tired,” Thor pleads. “Loki, please...” 

“Very well. The siting room,” Loki acquiesces with a displeased scowl, letting go and spinning around, striding past Thor and out the door. By the time Thor catches up, his brother is standing by the sofa, the pillows stacked. Just how many pillows does Loki own? Not that Thor is complaining... He’s certain if he wanted to sleep in the bathtub, and Loki allowed him, his brother would find a way to make sure he was comfortable. As it is, he’s content to rest on the sofa, where at least he won’t be so isolated. Privacy isn’t something he’s so concerned about at the moment. He and Steve will have their time. 

Loki’s hands are suddenly on him, stealing his crutch and passing it briskly off to Steve, who finds it thrust into his grip. Despite their differences in height and overall size, Loki undauntedly reaches up and grabs Thor’s shoulders, pushing him sitting. It’s unusual for his brother to be so handsy, but Thor doesn’t mind at all, not even the terse way Loki is man-handling him – Loki has a strange skill of being able to act brisk and stern and annoyed while simultaneously being incredibly gentle and cautious. That’s how Thor knows his brother isn’t really angry at him, that it’s all a mask. Well, maybe a little angry, but it all comes from a place of concern. 

Loki grabs Thor’s legs and spins him around, tucking a pillow under his injured one. He turns and puts his palm into Thor’s forehead, shoving him against the stack of pillows. Thor is about to protest in good brotherly fashion, at least bat Loki’s arm away (though he really doesn’t mind), but his brother is too quick, dropping a folded blanket on his face. When Thor pulls it off, Loki is already walking to the kitchen. 

“Well,” Steve shakes out the blanket and spreads it across Thor, sitting on the floor and leaning on the sofa. He threads his fingers through Thor’s hair and strokes it back. “He seems pleased to see you.” 

Thor smiles his agreement. He couldn’t be happier. So happy he might just cry... Well, maybe later. And he’s due a talk with his brother, too. 

“I got a look at the bathroom,” Steve says, lowering his voice suggestively. “Biggest bathtub I’ve ever seen.” 

“A bath would be nice,” Thor agrees. “I would require assistance...” 

“Be a shame not to make use of a tub that big while we’re here,” Steve agrees. “You want it before or after I’m done with that reward I owe you?” 

“That depends... What are you going to do to me?” Thor can feel his body responding to the suggestion already, everything below his belly button warm and tingly. If he’s not careful, he’s going to need one of Loki’s many pillows to cover his lap. 

“It might be messy,” Steve grins suggestively. “ _Definitely_ messy. I mean, I can always sponge you off after if your legs don’t work. I fully intend to make them useless.” 

“You’re cruel to taunt me.” 

“Well, you’ll just have to wait,” Steve says. “Are you thinking about it right now?” 

“How can I not?” 

“What are you seeing?” 

“You. And some particularly wonderful things you’re doing with your mouth,” Thor smiles as he looks at Steve’s lips. 

Steve licks them and leans closer. “Where?” 

“Everywhere.” 

“Maybe you should have that bath first then,” Steve smiles, sliding his hand under Thor’s head and bending over for a kiss. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Thor can only briefly protest before Steve’s tongue shoves any other words he might have right back inside his mouth. Which is fine by him. Steve kisses him aggressively, which Thor quite enjoys. He bathes in the assertion of dominance Steve is capable of, happy to let this crisp, perfect schoolboy do whatever the hell he wants. If he were to go back in time and tell himself that preppy, naïve-looking blonde bunny rabbit was actually a hungry, lusting tiger, he’d have scoffed in his own face. 

It’s the first time a partner has made him feel this cared-for, and not just sexually (though they’ve barely done anything in that regard). Steve’s caring nature is reflected in the people close to him, in his family and friends. Even _Loki_ likes Steve (or he’d never have invited Steve plus his whole family to live in his house indefinitely), which is rare. Practically unheard-of, even. Loki has always been protective, and Thor can’t remember bringing home a partner, man or woman, that his brother ever approved of. They’re older now, yes, but Loki is doing more than tolerating Thor’s choice. 

It might not seem like Loki approves, the way he’s standing over Steve’s shoulder watching with a flat stare and tight lips, but Thor knows his brother. He nudges Steve the moment he realizes his brother is standing there, wiping his mouth on his hand and smiling up. Loki huffs gruffly and sets the tea tray on the coffee table, spinning around to walk away. “Lunch is almost ready,” he announces. 

“Thank you,” Steve calls after him, a little pink, but Loki just disappears into the kitchen without a word. Concerned, Steve looks down, only to frown in confusion at the sight of Thor’s soft smile. “What’s that for?” 

“He likes you,” Thor explains. “I know it may not seem that way, but I promise you he does.” 

“I wasn’t worried,” Steve reassures, preparing two mugs of tea and pressing one into Thor’s waiting hand. “He came to find me yesterday night to ask me about what time you were being discharged. I guess he was in touch with Fury or something, because he already had a rough idea. He just wanted to make sure he was on time. Sure, he was a little terse, but I figured he’d have asked someone else if he didn’t like me.” 

Touched, Thor smiles around the rim of his mug. None of his brother’s actions have surprised him thus far, but it does add pressure to the fact that they need to talk, and badly. Loki cares, obviously, and this has been hard on him. Of course, Loki would never admit that himself... He’s always been emotionally guarded to some degree, but the fact that his mask is either crumbled to nothing, or plastered on much thicker than usual is a sign that Loki has been affected more by recent (and past) events than he lets on. Besides, the way Loki so kindly helps him betrays his brother’s love and concern. 

By the time lunch is ready, the rest of the guests are finished exploring the rooms they’ve been offered, and come down to join them. Everyone sprawls out in the sitting area to eat what Loki has prepared for them, Loki himself quickly leaving the house explaining he has a few things to get. He’s gone before anyone has the chance to thank him for what he’s prepared, and for opening his home to them. 

Plates covered in a variety of snacks are handed around, everything Thor is able to eat without needing any assistance. He balances a plate on his lap and fills it with a bit of everything. Loki has never been much of a cook, but he can make sandwiches as well as anyone, and they’re cut into manageable quarters. Thor happily eats away at his lunch while the others socialize, Tony rapidly launching into a story about a disastrous triple-date that he, Bucky, and Steve all took together before the two students had started their Masters’. In the end, Tony’s date had left early, and Steve’s date had gone home with Bucky’s not long after. The three friends had made the best of it and gone to the bar to drink away the rest of the night. It’s a hilariously self-deprecative story, elaborated upon by Steve and Bucky when they feel details are needed, and everyone is in stitches by the end. The enjoyment is only enhanced by Sarah’s interjections of disbelief when she learns something her boys had previously opted to keep from her. 

After lunch, the group disperses, Sarah and Bucky rounding up the empty plates and walking into the kitchen to wash them, while Tony goes upstairs explaining he has some things to do for Fury. That leaves Steve to offer Thor a walk, and Thor agrees. Part of his recovery involves cautious but regular exercise. A walk around Loki’s vast but relatively flat property would please him. Steve helps him put his shoes on, and they walk out into the gardens. 

Loki has always liked plants, and they certainly make this feel like their own little paradise tucked away from the rest of the world. Thor sets the pace along the smooth cobbled path, admiring the variety of flowers that surround them. There’s enough path to make a good exercise out of it without straining himself, and the terrain is perfect, not a stone loose beneath his feet. He would expect nothing less; Loki has always had an eye for detail, and a penchant for perfection. Then again, their father had trained them that way. Tried to, anyway. _We have much to discuss..._

Steve’s hand rests on his lower back as they walk, an alternative to holding hands. Thor sighs in content; this feels _normal_. Perhaps even romantic, out here with the sun dancing through the swaying trees. They manage a full loop of the pathway, which is as much as Thor can handle for today. His wounds are sore, and his energy is depleted, but it felt good to be outside. Steve positions him back on the sofa and goes to get him some water. The whole first floor is full of the smell of whatever Sarah is cooking. Content to rest, Thor enjoys Steve’s easy company and the light conversation they share while they wait for dinner. 

Loki comes home with supplies shortly before Sarah is gathering everyone to the table for the meal she’s prepared with Bucky’s help. It’s delicious and filling, and he couldn’t be happier than he is to eat it right here, at a full table. There are no left-overs. 

\-- 

Finally, it’s time for that bath. It’s been a good day, but Thor can feel it in his muscles that he doesn’t have much left in him. Enough for whatever Steve has in store for him though. 

Steve helps him lie down to undress him more easily, carefully undoing the sling and working off his shirt while the tub fills up. “Well, good first day back?” 

“Indeed,” Thor smiles, lifting his hips so his pants and underwear can be slid off. “It has been made even better by enjoyable company.” 

“Well you look... good,” Steve admires his naked body sprawled on top of the duvet, damaged and imperfect, but still worth the stare its being given. The look in Steve’s eyes doesn’t fade even when he comes up to peel the dressing off Thor’s shoulder, exposing the deep bruising and thick surgical cut. That’s going to leave one hell of a scar. 

They’ve done this so many times now that it’s natural for them to slot together, Steve helping him sit up on the edge of the bed, then stand and walk toward the bathroom. Without the brace, his leg is too weak to hold much of his weight, and he has to rely on Steve to bear it. A fading line on his knee from a minor surgery needed to clear up the mess this mission did to it is reduced to a surface blemish, and the knife wound in his thigh is in a similar stage of healing. His back is healed over too, and though it no longer requires dressing, the wound still hurts to his core. 

He’s lost weight. Not a large amount, but enough to be noticeable. The grooves of his muscles aren’t as defined when he looks down at his abs, and his face looks thinner when he catches sight of himself in the mirror, still pale. He still can’t straighten up properly either. But overall, he looks better than those first few times he was allowed out of bed to go to the bathroom with Steve’s help, and he’d seen himself in the mirror. 

Steve sits him on the closed toilet lid and gets undressed. Maybe it’s just Thor’s imagination, but it looks like Steve’s lost some weight too... He frowns up, trying to confirm his suspicion but his attention stolen by the mark on Steve’s bicep in the process. It’s a young scar, one that’s barely sealed over, one that wasn’t there the last time he saw Steve naked. “Steve...” 

“Uh huh?” Steve takes off his glasses and hearing aid, looking back to notice where Thor’s eyes are leading. He looks down at his arm and rubs his fingers along the mark. “Oh, that.” 

“When did that happen?” Thor lifts his arm so Steve can help him stand up and walk toward the tub. “I’m sorry, I...” Guiltily, he shakes his head, struggling to remember what might have happened... Had he not protected Steve well enough? Had something slipped his attention? 

“In the server room, with Rollins,” Steve explains calmly, encouraging him to get into the tub full of hot, soapy water covered in a thick layer of bubbles. “He shot at me. It’s just a graze.” He smiles reassuringly. “It’s okay.” 

It looks deep for a graze, but it’s healed now, needing only time to fade. Thor lowers himself into the water with Steve’s help and stares at the mark. “It doesn’t hurt?” He holds himself sitting. 

“It was sore for a while,” Steve says, sliding in behind with a leg either side. He draws Thor back to rest against his chest. “But it’s fine, really.” 

Thor stares up at the ceiling while Steve dips a cloth into the water and starts to wash him. It feels too good, the hot water on his sore muscles, and Steve’s hands ministering to him. His eyelids droop with pleasure, but he resolves himself not to fall asleep. Besides, there are things he needs to know, that moment in the server room playing through his head; Steve, the gun in his hand, threatening Rollins with unwavering resolve, scared but not about to roll over. Not about to let Thor die. “The gun...” Thor murmurs. “You emptied it. How did you know Rollins would take it from you?” 

“I didn’t,” Steve admits. “I was just... afraid of accidentally shooting him. I didn’t think he would take the gun.” 

“An accidental stroke of genius,” Thor smiles. “Though you are more than capable of the deliberate ones, too...” 

“Is that an innuendo?” Steve’s tone relaxes, as does his body, which Thor can feel pressed against his. He can feel Steve’s heartbeat through his back, can hear Steve’s pulse in his neck. There’s still a tremor locked deep inside Steve’s body that doesn’t want to go away. 

“It can be,” Thor smiles. Bless his brother’s taste in furnishing... Despite both of them being on the tall side, there’s plenty of space for the two of them, length and width-wise. Depth, too: the water goes all the way up to Thor’s chest, covering his knees. One of Steve’s legs bends under his hurt one, propping it up. 

The cloth wipes up and down his chest, down his arms, and up his neck. He shuts his eyes and lets Steve clean the grooves his face. Steve lathers some soap into his hands, plunging his fingers into Thor’s hair and rubbing into his head, abandoning the cloth for a moment. It feels amazing. Thor’s not sure he’s ever reached this level of relaxation before. 

“Don’t fall asleep,” Steve’s lips tickle his ear. “I can’t carry you.” 

“Why not?” Thor mumbles. “You can always drag me across the floor instead. I’ll slide quite well.” 

“If you fall asleep you’ll miss the show.” Steve’s lips tickle down his neck, and his hands slides down Thor’s sides and around the inside of his thighs, so close, but not close enough. 

“You won’t do it here in the bath?” Thor tempts. 

“I want to look you in the eyes.” 

Oh. Well. Thor smiles, and if Steve’s not careful the water might not be deep enough to hide Thor’s arousal. “That suits me.” 

“Good,” Steve washes up Thor’s ribs, around his waist, then back down. No crevice is forgotten, but Steve is slow and clinical, and Thor tries not to be _too_ aroused. He knows what Steve is capable of with his hands, and the gentle wipes are far from the possessive strokes Steve has delivered in the past. That doesn’t mean he can’t be at least a _little_ aroused... And it won’t take much to get him to full-mast when things kick off. 

Steve washes him thoroughly, top to bottom, like a servant to a king. Even though he knows there are better things to come, Thor can’t help but be disappointed when the bath ends, and Steve is sliding out from under him to pull the plug. 

“We must do this again,” Thor suggests, liking the idea of the reverse just as much, even though he has at least a few weeks of healing to do before that will work. “Please. Even when...” 

“When you don’t need my help?” Steve smiles, wrapping Thor’s arm around his neck and carefully lifting him standing before guiding him out of the tub and over to the towel folded on the toilet seat. “Yeah, sure we can.” 

“I didn’t require _that_ much help,” Thor smiles. He’d have been fine to lay in the tub on his own and wash himself. Admittedly though, it was much more comfortable to let Steve do the work than trying to stretch and clean himself. He’s not sure he can reach his toes yet. 

Steve sits him on the toilet and drapes a towel over Thor’s head, ruffling his hair to dry it. If Thor were to lean forward a little, he’d be at the perfect angle to return the favor, but he retrains himself, reassuring himself that he’ll have his time. For now, he can just look, and appreciate – Steve may be lanky, but that doesn’t hold true for _every_ part of him. “You’re full of surprises...” Thor murmurs, unbelievably tempted even just to touch... 

Steve pulls the towel over his face and rubs more vigorously. “Hold your horses, tough guy.” 

“You’re the one taunting me,” Thor lifts the towel to smirk up at Steve, and he’s pleased to see there’s a blush blossoming in Steve’s fair cheeks. “Cruel, to wave in a man’s face what he can’t have.” 

“Never said you couldn’t have it,” Steve replies, wrapping the towel around Thor’s shoulders and carefully patting him dry. “You just gotta wait. I’m taking care of _you_. You’ll get your turn.” 

“I’d better,” Thor raises his eyebrows. “You did promise me whatever I wanted.” 

“I did,” Steve leans over him, their noses almost touching. “Both ways, all ways, any way you want.” 

“Then perhaps we could try one of those ways tonight,” Thor suggests. “Being inside me consists of taking care of me.” 

“We’ll build up to it,” Steve promises. “Don’t wanna wear you out too much. Loki might be okay with me, but I don’t think he’d appreciate it if I fucked you so hard you had a respiratory event. Believe me, I’m pretty tempted too, but I think we should stick to less strenuous activities for a while.” 

Sulking won’t help, but Thor tries it anyway as Steve kneels down to dry his legs. “The things you do to me can hardly be considered ‘less strenuous’,” he argues. “What you did to me in the hotel room...” 

“But, you could still get up in the morning,” Steve remarks. “You have a hard enough time moving around as it is without being railed.” 

“Delicate,” Thor smirks. “You certainly know how to provide incentives.” Steve’s sure putting some graphic imagery in his head, and he loves it. _Rail me._

“I want you to get better,” Steve’s smile is sly, but it’s warmed by concern and accompanied by a caring kiss. He lingers, stroking his fingers down Thor’s beard and pulling the other man’s lower lip into his mouth to tease. When he speaks again, his voice takes on a deeper tone that resonates through his chest. “However,” Steve rumbles, “getting that blood flow going will help. You still want to do this?” 

“For one so bright, you sometimes say very stupid things,” Thor smiles eagerly. “Do to me as you will.” 

Steve pulls away, but only to quickly dab himself dry. He’s back at Thor’s side in a moment, helping him to stand and limp out of the bathroom and back to bed. Thor lies back on the pillows and takes the dose of pills given, washing them down with water as Steve rips open some packaging to dress his shoulder. The alcohol wipes sting a little, but the wound is well on its way to sealing completely shut, and the infection has been purged away. That tightness in his chest is almost gone, though he can still feel the extend of the illness that gripped him, and had sat so close to his heart. 

Delicate with the bruised skin hiding the damaged joint and muscle beneath, Steve presses a gauze patch over the surgical cut and nearby bullet hole. Luckily the bullet didn’t puncture the artery in his chest, but it’s done irreparable damage all the same. It’s hard to know how much PT will be able to help him until he starts it properly, but what if he’s so hampered he can never hold a gun in that hand again? Such a prospect would have disheartened him before, but right now he can’t find it in himself to care. So what if his arm is fucked? Maybe he’ll care more about it later, but right not much else matters other than Steve, and what Steve is about to do to him. He’s already flushed with anticipation as the start of their session draws nearer. 

“Easy,” Steve soothes, resting his hand into Thor’s belly while he moves Thor’s arm at the elbow. “You’re impatient.” 

_You’re_ making _me impatient._ Thor is ready, and it’s showing more and more the longer he’s made to wait. But they have to do this. They have to take care of his arm, and get this out of the way so the rest of the night can be filled only with pleasure. Steve bends his elbow and makes sure he can feel and move all his fingers, diligent without wasting time. 

“You just keep that there,” Steve orders, resting Thor’s arm on the pillow by his head without disturbing his shoulder joint. “Don’t move, okay? You just let me handle things.” 

“Yessir,” Thor replies, and he can’t stop the soft moan following up behind. 

Steve smiles at his eagerness, tucking a pillow under his leg and looming on all fours over him. “Are you comfortable?” 

No, he’s not – he's in need, and Steve needs to _get the fuck on with it_. 

“You let me know if you’re tired, or it hurts,” Steve says, lowering himself until their hips are touching. “But otherwise, just relax.” 

Thor opens his mouth, caught between growling in frustration, or begging for Steve to start, but he doesn’t get the chance because Steve plunges into his mouth and cuts him off, seizing his control. It’s nice, just to lie back and let everything be taken care of around him, to trust that Steve will handle it. He trusts Steve, trusts him with his most intimate places, inside and out. Steve is good at what he does, too, going at his task with a confidence that arouses Thor so much he practically flies erect. It doesn’t take long before his body doesn’t ache so much anymore, anything unseen to by the bath quickly melting. 

His ache of desire is attacked as well, though Steve does torment him a little to make this last. Thor almost considers fighting back a little, just to see if Steve will carry through his promise and tie him to the bed. Rational thought is given little room to flourish, however, because Steve is a masterful lover, and gives Thor no choice but to submit. There are lots of reasons Thor is happy he survived, but right now he can’t remember any of them, the way Steve is touching and tonguing him. There’s nothing like a hot bath and a handful of orgasms to make him feel like a new man. 

“I never told you that you make the best noises,” Steve whispers in his ear. 

_That’s your fault! Look what you’re doing to me! You made those noises come out of me!_ That’s not what he says though, able only to give a slurred mumble of an agreement. 

Steve squeezes his waist and teases the soft skin with his nails. “Kinda makes me want to go the extra mile and feel what sort of sounds you make when I fuck you properly.” 

_Don’t say that! That’s not fair, taunting me!_ Thor growls and lifts his belly off the bed, reaching up with the intent of dragging Steve closer. Maybe he can fumble around and pull Steve inside him. 

Steve is in control, lacing his fingers with Thor’s and pinning his hand on the pillows. “Another time,” he promises into Thor’s ear, rubbing his smooth cheek against Thor’s bristled one. He drags his face over and delivers a kiss. “You’ll get it, don’t worry. But when I say, and not before.” A finger lays across Thor’s lips, Steve’s other hand pushing Thor’s hips down before grabbing him with a skillful twist that makes him shudder, and all his muscles relax. “That’s it,” Steve rumbles encouragingly, sliding down Thor’s body, drawing circles with his thumb as he pulls and twists. “Look at you. So strong. Fuck, you’re a masterpiece.” 

“Oh god, Steve...” Thor lifts his head to get a better look as Steve goes down with his mouth, but he promptly throws it back again as Steve’s motions increase the slope of his climb toward another explosive orgasm. 

Everything disintegrates around him, except for the warmth spreading through his body. He has no power, no responsibility, and it’s wonderful. Nothing rests on his shoulders. He moans low in his chest, and Steve – _oh fuck, Steve –_ sees him through the release, his hair beautifully musses and his lips damp. 

This is even better than the first time, location and circumstances aside – Steve remembered what he learned, and has expanded upon it. 

They end with Thor breathless, struggling to breathe deeply enough with his recovering lungs, but happy. Steve appears at his side with a cloth, but holds off on wiping up the evidence of their evening well-spent, instead laying his hand on Thor’s chest and encouraging him to breathe deeply. “So good,” Steve murmurs. “As I'd expect from a warrior of your caliber.” 

Flattered, Thor chuckles. It was indeed good, for lack of the perfect word to describe what Steve has done to him. 

Steve cleans him off and lays his injured arm back across his chest, but doesn’t bother with the sling. He pulls the duvet up and over Thor’s naked body, sliding promptly in as well. As first nights home go, this has to be on top. Steve leans over to shut off the lamp before leaning down for one last kiss and tucking himself against Thor’s side. Thor sighs and wraps his arm around Steve’s back, holding him close. 

\-- 

The next morning, Thor wakes to find the bed is empty beside him. He groans and rubs his eyes, looking around the room. The digital clock on the bedside table reads 7:30am, the sun is shining through the curtains, and the blankets are tucked thoughtfully around him. Thor shoves his arm under himself and sits up against the pillows, drawing out of the haze of a really good sleep. It’s nice to no longer wake up at noon still feeling exhausted. 

Someone is moving around in the kitchen. Thor frowns curiously, but he isn’t left waiting long before Steve opens the door with his foot and shuts it behind him, balancing a tray covered in food. He flicks on the light with his elbow and walks over, depositing the tray in Thor’s lap. 

“Breakfast in bed?” Thor looks down at the spread of food, then back up at Steve, who’s put on a pair of sweats but left his naked torso to admire. “I thought I’d been discharged.” He grins back down at the food. Definitely not hospital food: home-made pancakes covered in syrup and chopped fruit, with bacon on the side, and a hot mug of coffee. Butter drips down the stack of pancakes. 

“I promised you a meal after sex,” Steve says proudly. “Besides, you need the calories.” 

“Sex doesn’t burn that many,” Thor replies, his grin unfading as he pokes a pancake with his fork. It cuts easily, and he quickly pushes a piece into his mouth. 

“Not yet it doesn’t,” Steve smiles knowingly. 

“I hope you ate,” Thor stabs a piece of pancake and aims it purposely for Steve’s mouth. “You worked a lot harder than I did last night.” _As well as yesterday, and the day before, and the whole two weeks you spent taking care of me._

Syrup-smeared pancake rubs on Steve’s lips as Thor approaches, expecting the other man to open his mouth. Reluctantly, Steve eats a mouthful. He swallows. “I ate.” 

“Eat some more,” Thor orders, pointing the empty fork at the space beside him. “Sit.” 

Bristling is the best way Thor can describe Steve’s posture – Steve leans back a little too. Before Thor can inquire what’s wrong, or even make sure he’s reading into this right and not just imagining things, Steve is backing toward the door. “I gotta clean up,” he says, faltering over his words. He turns and shuts the door behind him. 

Thor stares after him, perplexed and concerned. _What did I say...?_ Maybe nothing. He looks down at his breakfast and decides it can wait until he’s finished what Steve made for him, while the food is still hot. In fact, he doesn’t mind relaxing in solitude, looking out the window at the sun still rising over the treetops on Loki’s property, and the distant hillside. Actually, it might be the first time he’s been alone in weeks; as far as he can remember, there was always someone with him in the hospital. For that, he’s grateful, but these few minutes with his own thoughts are refreshing just the same. He can hear birds chirping outside, the faint noises of the house waking up, and his own even breathing pattern. Though he knows he’ll get antsy soon, for now this is nice. Like a forced vacation. 

With a full stomach, Thor washes the last bite of breakfast down with the last swig of coffee and moves the empty tray aside, pushing himself off the pillows. Maybe he can get dressed by himself today. 

There are no clothes within reach, so he swings his legs out of bed with a grunt and reaches for his crutch, limping steadily across the room to the dresser. He holds his injured arm protectively against his chest. Standing and sitting are getting easier, at least. Bending and twisting, too, though those things may be what keeps him from putting on any pants. The first time is always the hardest, and Thor has never shied away from a challenge. In fact, he’d have tried a lot sooner if he’d been alone. 

The shirt goes on fine, the fabric a lot nicer than he’s used to; his work may pay well, but Thor has a habit of wearing shirts until they’re more hole than fabric, and he certainly wouldn’t wear anything too nice on a job, where it will most definitely get blood on it. Thor has to admit he likes the texture on his skin, though. Loki has a good eye for this sort of thing, and of course he’s chosen the right sizes for everything. There’s more room in it than he’s used to, but he suspects his weight loss to be the cause of that. 

Thor picks a pair of jogging pants and some clean underwear and takes them back to the bed, wisely concluding he should sit to avoid the risk of falling over. He bends his healing knee as far as it will safely go and leans forward to meet it, just about reaching his ankle, but able to throw the hole over his foot and pull up his underwear. The other leg goes in a lot easier, and it’s just his pants now. But oh god, it hurts, and his spine cracks while the muscles down one side of his back pull. 

“Thor.” Steve has appeared in the doorway. “Hey, sorry, I didn’t know you were done. Let me help you.” Maybe Thor imagined that moment back there, because Steve is back to normal, coming over to help. 

“It’s alright,” Thor reassures, wincing as he straightens out again and lets Steve feed the pants up his legs. “I made it this far...” 

“You did,” Steve smiles, pulling the waistband up and around his hips. He grabs the sling off the nightstand and tucks it around Thor’s arm, strapping it in place. “You’ll be better before you know it.” 

He hopes so. Time has passed by much faster with company. Thor patiently waits for Steve to get him some socks and strap the brace around his leg before getting up. Hurting he may be, but that bath and a hearty round of sex have loosened him up, and it’s noticeably easier to move. Steve collects the tray, and they walk back out into the sitting room. 

The others are coalescing in the kitchen to eat, looking content. Thor smiles, as he watches them gather at the table, but his gaze is quickly drawn to his brother, who is standing by a shelf in the sitting room, staring contemplatively at a framed painting as if it holds the secrets of the universe. He turns to look, but quickly looks away when he spots Thor. 

“Go,” Steve urges quietly. “He’s been hanging around for ages, waiting for me to leave. Go talk with him.” 

It’s due. Thor nods resolutely at Steve, who smiles encouragingly and pats his back, splitting off to join his family. He limps over to his brother, and Loki turns to look at him before he’s made it far, walking to meet him halfway. “Good morning,” Loki says with a lifted chin, observing Thor from top to bottom. “You look... relaxed.” 

Thor smiles knowingly. “Unbelievably.” 

“Will you walk with me?” Facades are already starting to come away, Loki’s eyebrows upturned and his voice unusually hesitant. “If it’s not too early...” 

“No, not at all,” Thor agrees readily, following his brother to the door and sliding into his shoes one at a time. Loki’s hand hovers out to steady him, landing on his shoulder at the slightest sight of imbalance. 

It’s a nice morning, heralding a nice day to follow; warm sun perhaps a light breeze to ease the heat, blue skies and a few fluffy white clouds. The shade of Loki’s garden is just cool enough to be refreshing. Loki lets him set the pace, and awkwardly pushes his hands into his pockets. They walk for a few minutes before Loki breaks the silence, stopping in the middle of the path and turning to face him. 

“Thor,” he says, and Thor stops to face his brother, frowning curiously as he waits for what’s to follow. Tilting between a spectrum of emotions, hands removed from his pockets and trembling at his sides, Loki finally builds up the courage to do what he stopped them for; he lifts his hand and smacks it across Thor’s face. 

The blow is a lot harder than Thor anticipates, and his eyes fly open in surprise as he stumbles a little, his cheek stinging. 

There’s a pause before Loki shakes his head and lunges in, grabbing Thor by the front of his shirt and yanking him so they’re face-to-face again. Rage boils in his brother’s eyes, in his expression and his posture, muscles taught with frustration, flecks of grief quickly coloring it. There are no pretenses, no attempts to hide; Loki’s eyes are shimmering with unshed tears. “Don’t you ever make me go through that again.” 

That was deserved. Thor lets go of his crutch to he can rub his cheek, hanging his head to take what he deserves in silence. 

Loki obliges, but his voice softens a little now that he’s gotten that out of his system. “Thor... I take back what I said about leaving you. I could not do it, even if you ran back to Fury today and he sent you on a mission like this all over again.” 

The honesty shocks Thor so much he looks back up to meet his brother’s gaze, speechless. 

Tenderly, Loki squeezes his arm. “I will not see you destroy yourself, Thor. I will do everything I can to stop you, but in the end, the choice is yours, and whatever you decide, I will do what I can to help.” 

Thor drops his crutch so he can grab his brother by the front of his pressed collared shirt, pulling him close and hugging him. “I’m so sorry,” he says quietly, returning the favor and holding none of his emotions back either. Tears are welling up. “I never meant to hurt you. I should have stayed with you... I abandoned you when you needed me, and you still came back to save me.” 

“Someone had to take the high road,” Loki hugs him back with a wet chuckle, careful of his tender spots. “I know that it was an accident, and I know that your cause was noble. You saved a lot of people.” 

“We all did,” Thor smiles. He leans into his brother for support, and Loki holds him warmly, rubbing up and down his back as if to reassure himself Thor is still alive. “I’m still sorry...” he adds on. 

“Good, you should be,” Loki agrees. “But I forgive you.” 

“I appreciate it,” Thor’s smile doesn’t fade. “As I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.” He knows what he needs to do; promise to give up the job, promise not to go searching for another employer or do solo work now that SHIELD is gone. The words won’t come out though, and he quickly loses his chance when Loki lets go and bends down to pick up the crutch, wiping his eyes while he’s bent over. Thor sees it, wiping up his own gathered tears. 

Loki gives him back his crutch and rests a hand on his shoulder. “Come on, you’ve spent long enough lazing around.” 

Thor grins and follows his brother’s guidance, setting off down the path again. His smile slowly fades as the silence grows, and the atmosphere shifts away from that cozy warmth the two of them managed to stoke. It doesn’t completely go away, but it’s hard to remain cheerful when he knows what’s to come. Thor tries to think of something to say that might ease the tension and make this impending discussion easier, but once again Loki beats him to it. 

“I promised to be honest with you,” he says. “About... everything.” 

“Loki-” Thor frowns sympathetically. 

“Thor. Please.” Loki begs. “Just listen. I was hesitant to tell you because I did not want to sully your memories of our family, but I cannot hide this from you. You were destined to find out anyway... Father’s company was never about real-estate. Well... that was the cover.” 

“He sold weapons,” Thor concludes. It’s not hard to make an educated guess with the clues presented. “And laundered the profits through property.” 

“Essentially,” Loki agrees with a sigh. “I’m not sure that even Mother knew... He was good at what he did. It took me a long time even to track down the properties that he owned. I had a hunch that something wasn’t right, but when I got there and scoured everything, that’s when I found it.” 

The hiding places for weapons. Thor nods grimly. “And you discovered all of this on your own... I should have been there. I’m sorry.” While he was off playing soldier, Loki was on his own dealing with damning information about their family and processing their loss. 

Loki shakes his head. “No. There is no way you could have known.” 

“And the company? What of it?” 

“I have not yet closed it,” Loki admits. “I have tried to withdraw us from the weapons market as much as I can, but such a thing is difficult. It is not so simple as just... stopping.” 

“I will help,” Thor insists immediately. 

“No offense, brother, but administrative duties have never been your strong suit,” Loki lifts an eyebrow. 

“I can fill in forms. Just tell me what to do, and I will do it.” 

“Your arm must heal first,” Loki counters. “And even then... your handwriting has never been... good.” 

“At least let me try. I can help. I owe you that much,” Thor insists. “I can at least operate a stapler.” 

Loki sighs, and he squeezes Thor’s arm. “I would appreciate that." He looks like he has more to say, but the path has run out, and Loki holds his tongue. There will be time to discuss the situation more in-depth, but for now Thor is satisfied with the information he has. So long as Loki is alright, then it matters not exactly what their father was up to. He was never that close with his sons. 

They go back inside. Everyone else has gone outside to see the horses, leaving the house empty and quiet. Thor sits on the couch at his brother’s direction and waits patiently for him to finish in the kitchen. When Loki returns, he comes bearing tea, and they drink it together. 

\-- 

The routine they fall into is not a busy one, but it is comfortable. Loki shows the others around the stables and teaches them how to saddle and care for the horses. Thor comes to watch, stroking the muzzle of one of Loki’s tamed stallions while Steve hoists a saddle onto a dappled mare and does up the straps. As expected, he learns quickly, and is soon going over to help Tony. Tony is visibly innerved by the horse, but once he’s in the saddle he changes his mind and is galloping off across the field as fast as the animal can carry him. 

Steve is a noble sight atop his horse, his posture straight and the animal answering his commands. It would be a pleasure to take a ride with him, but that will have to wait. 

When the others go riding throughout the week, Loki and Thor take a walk across the flatter parts of the field, or go back inside to prepare some food for the others. It doesn’t feel real; he and his brother are spending more time together than they have in years. 

Everyone pitches in, but often it’s Sarah who cooks dinner, and she makes the most delicious meals Thor has eaten in some time. Bucky and Tony have quickly become his friends, and of course now he’s got Steve. Steve, who runs him hot baths and makes him feel worshiped. They’re rarely apart from each other. 

This paradise can’t last forever; something is wrong with Steve, but Thor never knows what to make of the evidence he collects. So far, he only has a hunch, and is at a loss for how to approach. Steve goes to bed after him, and wakes up before. He takes his baths with Thor and very often takes him to bed afterward for their usual sexual pleasures. But he always gives, always takes control and gives Thor no chances to even offer returning the favor. The harder Thor attempts to interject before Steve can get started, with the hope that he may convince Steve at the last minute to reconsider who will give, the more desperate Steve becomes to start. And Thor, wanting what Steve is offering while still too hurt to fight back much, allows it. Thor can’t say he doesn’t enjoy it, but he is noticing that Steve is growing more and more controlling in bed, more wanting. Thor doesn’t know what to make of that, either, and he doesn’t know who to ask. Maybe it’s nothing to be concerned over, since both of them are having a good time. 

Thor is getting better; his stamina is improving, as well as his range of motion. He can touch his toes now, with minimal pain. His wounds flare up now and then, but his medication is mostly keeping that under control. If he’s careful, he’s usually fine. Some days are worse than others, of course. A couple of times he’s been hit with exhaustion that comes from nowhere, and he’s forced to tap out and retire early to bed. One morning his back and shoulder hurt so badly he couldn’t get out of bed. Fortunately, there was more than enough help available. 

Loki is taking him into the city today, for tests and consultations. For the first time in a week, he’ll be leaving the property, and leaving Steve. It’s going to be a long day. 

“Good luck,” Steve says, wrapping a jacket around Thor’s shoulders. “You sure I can’t come?” 

“I appreciate the offer,” Thor smiles. “But you should stay here. I know you aren’t fond of hospitals.” 

“Nobody is,” Steve reasons, taking Thor’s hand and playing with the knuckles. An underlying tremor has lived in Steve’s grip for some time now, but it’s more prominent all of a sudden. 

“You should spend some time with your family,” Thor suggests. “I will be alright, I promise.” 

“O-okay, if you’re sure,” Steve agrees. 

“I’ll be back before you know it,” Thor smiles, wrapping his fingers around Steve’s and bringing the other man’s hand to his lips to kiss his knuckles. 

“If you call ahead, I can have a bath ready for you,” Steve offers. 

“I would appreciate that,” Thor smiles. “I may need it.” 

They part ways reluctantly, and Thor gets into the car where Loki is waiting for him. It’s very early, so they get coffee on the way, finishing it in the radiology waiting room. 

Loki stands on the sidelines, attentive as various specialists tend his brother. He watches everything, mostly keeping out of the way, but approaching when Thor needs help onto a table, cutting off whoever was about to do it. He looks at any results he can, and asks lots of direct questions. Finally, all the tests are over, and they’re walking to another section of the hospital to consult the doctor to whom all the results have been sent. 

Thor is already exhausted, but Loki encourages him quietly and gets some lunch for them to eat on the way. There is a little bit of time before the appointment, time to sit and rest and eat. 

The doctor explains the scans, but Thor is too tired to pay much attention to the details. He’s healing, and that’s all he cares about. Fortunately, ever a man of details, Loki collects everything of important. He folds up the printed orders from the doctor and tucks them in his jacket. They talk about exercise and calorie intake, as well as future appointments, and the doctor downgrades Thor’s crutch and brace for a cane, encouraging him to walk as much as he can manage day-to-day. 

Among the orders are new exercises that will help him continue to gather his strength. The doctor does a round with him, pulling and twisting on his leg until it feels like it’s going to pop out of the socket. The routines prescribed for his shoulder are much gentler, but they still hurt. Thor looks forward to his bath more and more. 

Despite the initial pain of the exercises, and the built-up soreness from a long day on his feet, his leg feels looser. It’s going to start cramping soon if he doesn’t get off it though, and it’s a relief when they get back to the car, where he collapses in his seat and promptly falls asleep, forgetting to call Steve altogether. 

When he wakes up, Loki has reclined his seat and draped his jacket over him. They’ve just pulled up in front of the house, and the sky is dark. 

It’s good to be home. Thor groans and sits up, undoing his seatbelt and opening his door. Loki walks around to help him out and up to the front door, letting him inside and leading him straight to the bedroom. The door is barely in sight before Steve appears around it, rushing to greet them. Loki draws away, and Thor calls a thank-you to his brother as Steve leads him fervently into the bedroom. 

“Sorry I didn’t call,” Thor says. “I fell asleep-” 

Steve cuts him off with a kiss, spinning him around and pushing him into the bed. He’s shaking badly, moaning softly into Thor’s mouth and his fingers fumbling with the sling straps. 

“Steve, what-” Thor starts to protest, but he’s cut off even more roughly by the possessive plunge of Steve’s tongue deep into his mouth. The cane is taken from his hand, and he swiftly finds himself flat on his back in bed, being needily stripped. Steve is trying to undress both of them at the same time, devoid of his usual grace. “Steve!” He raises his hand. 

Steve climbs up him and grabs the hand, pressing it into the pillows. Thor can’t bring himself to resist the kiss that comes his way, but he frowns as Steve’s motions grow more desperate, and less coordinated. 

They pull away, and both of them are panting. Thor props himself up as Steve takes off both of their pants. “Steve... talk to me – ah!” Steve grabs him with purpose and goes down on him like a starving man, sucking needily and without much build-up, going straight for the most sensitive places with the most effective touches. Thor collapses as pleasure shoots through him. “Steve.... oh god, S-Steve...” 

He quickly submits. Admittedly, this is just what he needs after today. He’s in pain, but Steve makes him forget it, and everything else going through his head. In the end, he welcomes Steve’s advances and melts into the bed, submitting. 

\-- 

Thor doesn’t wake up until very late at night, Steve clung tightly to his waist, asleep but muttering under his breath. Thor sighs and rests his hand on Steve’s head, rubbing it gently until his stomach growls, alerting him to what likely woke him up. He hasn’t had dinner yet. 

Delicately, Thor unwraps Steve’s arms from his waist and slides out of bed, tucking the other man under the covers and putting on some pants. He picks up his cane and limps into the kitchen in search of food. He makes himself a sandwich and sits at the table to eat, turning the chair so he can look out the window at the stars. 

The sex is good, but the flavor has changed. Thor thinks back to what Sarah asked of him in the hospital, and he realizes he’s grown complacent, less attentive. His senses were dulled by his condition, but they haven’t sharpened, despite the fact that he’s doing much better. Pleasure is getting in the way, drawing his focus. And what has he done about the things he _has_ noticed were off with Steve? _I promised to take care of you..._

That's going to take more deliberate effort. He cannot simply wait for the right time, and he cannot let Steve end the conversation with sex. _We’ll talk._ Maybe Steve doesn’t want to be vulnerable in front of his family, because he seems to be hiding his struggle well enough around them. Or maybe they’re afraid or unsure about approaching him, too. Whatever is happening, Steve is getting away with his antics. No longer. Thor will employ Loki’s help if he must. He puts his plate in the sink and gets up, going back to bed. 

Steve is where Thor left him, but coiled even tighter, his eyebrows furrowed, and his fingers twisting the duvet as he mumbles and sweats. Thor knows a nightmare when he sees on. Quickly, he abandons his cane and gives Steve’s shoulder a shake. “Steve...?” He pries the blankets from the other man’s hand gets under them, sliding himself through Steve’s arms until they’re back how they were. It’s a little difficult with his injured arm, but he makes it happen, settling the blankets back around both of them. 

Steve doesn’t wake up, but readjusts his arms around Thor’s waist, nuzzling into his ribs with a few quiet and incoherent words. The nightmare’s grip appears to loosen. 

Best to let him sleep; those dark rings under Steve’s eyes haven’t faded at all. Thor sighs and rubs his thumb into Steve’s shoulder, shutting his eyes and wishing he knew what to do, what to say. 

He hasn’t really known what to say since he met Steve and all of this began. _God help me... I’m so sorry. I let myself enjoy your touch a little too much, that I allowed you to suffer while you_ _tirelessly_ _took care of me._

The mission isn’t over until _everyone_ comes home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *If you're enjoying this, I would really appreciate your feedback!* Having a bit of a tough time and some encouragement would be great <3 of course, no pressure, and I ALWAYS welcome constructive criticism if you have any. Always. It helps be write better stories to come. However, a gal could use some encouragement right about now. I'm having doubts about some of my choices at this stage of the story, too, so it'd also be helpful to know if y'all are enjoying this direction.
> 
> Thanks for your support <3


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the input and support! I felt like I was losing a few threads, but I'm glad y'all are enjoying this! The battle isn't over yet...
> 
> Cheers for reading as always!

Of course, Steve is awake first, somehow managing to escape the bed without waking Thor up. Thor almost wishes his nightmares would come back with the vehemence he’s used to, because then at least he might have a chance of catching Steve before his partner leaves the bed. As soon as they’re separated, it’s difficult for Thor to close the distance. His body still feels so slow and useless, despite his improvements, despite his generally good mood.

Well, he  _ was _ in a good mood until it hit him more firmly that Steve is suffering. And what has he done about it? Nothing.  _ Fucking useless. _ No, no no. He can’t make this about himself. He’s been the center of attention for weeks, and Steve has slipped under the radar because of it. Today he starts work again.

This mission isn’t over. Steve is his assigned responsibility, his duty. But more than that, it’s his pleasure, and his desire, which don’t have to be separate from duty. This can be all those things at once. 

Thor rouses himself and dresses, immediately aware that his body feels stiffer than it did yesterday. His wounds ache like they’re being squeezed, and he can only conclude that the air pressure has changed. Maybe rain is coming. He takes his pills and straightens, determined not to be held back by anything. 

When he limps into the kitchen, Steve is there making breakfast, as he so often in, frying eggs and dropping bread into the toaster. He turns and smiles cheerfully at the sight of Thor, but the dark rings around his eyes remain a constant inhabitant of his face. “Good morning,” he greets.

“A cold one,” Thor replies, making his way over and sliding his hand around Steve’s waist, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “Can I help?”

“You can watch these eggs,” Steve offers, cupping Thor by the neck and reaching up to kiss his lips. “Gotta butter the toast while it’s still hot.”

“Yes, sir,” Thor agrees, hanging his cane off the oven handle and taking hold of the pan while Steve stacks the last round of toast onto a plate and stands beside him to butter them. They work in peace for a minute or two, Thor watching the eggs bubble and cook and Steve methodically spreading butter across slice after slice. It’s suddenly a lot harder to muster that determination in this moment of normality. But he has to do it. Thor can feel himself tense with apprehension and perhaps a little fear as he gathers his words and makes the decision to speak. He’s waited too long. “Steve... we must talk.” He tries to keep his tone casual.

Regardless of his efforts, Steve still stiffens, arranging the last slice of toast onto the stack with excessive deliberation and a rough swallow. “A-about what?”

“About... you.” Thor says. “Something is wrong, I know it.”

“I’m fine,” Steve replies swiftly, taking the plate to the table and putting the butter away. He busies himself setting the table. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m alright. You should worry about yourself.”

Thor lets go of the pan so he can nudge the eggs with the spatula. “I’m alright,” he assures.

“Are you sure? You’re moving stiffer than usual,” Steve approaches to reclaim the frying pan, expertly diverting attention off of himself in a way that Thor can’t beat, because he  _ is _ a lot stiffer than yesterday.

“I’m alright, Steve, really,” he tries to come back from it. They can worry about more than one thing at once. Relatively, he’s doing well. Maybe if he’s honest, that will encourage Steve to do the same. Besides, Thor doesn’t mind saying how he’s feeling. “I’m just sore, that’s all. I think it’s the weather.”

“Then take it easy,” Steve replies, loosened again and nudging Thor toward the table. “Sit.”

Mutely, Thor takes his cane and walks to the table, sitting with a wince and stretching out his leg. He’s going to have to try harder than that, but his chance to persist is lost; Steve is passing him a plate of eggs and pouring him some coffee. The rest of the family comes to join them at the table, forcing that pending discussion to be benched.  _ For now... _

Thor eats, but Steve finishes first, slipping away amongst the conversation. The moment Thor notices, he swallows the last bite of toast and gets up, leaving the dining area in search of his friend. Too sore to tackle stairs today, Thor discretely asks Loki to check, while he takes the first floor. The others know something is wrong, have probably known for a long time, and they gather in the stables behind the brothers one the house is scoured.

One of the horses is gone. Bucky frowns and steps past the group, looking out into the field. “I’ll go look for him,” he says. “He’s probably out by the trees.”

While Bucky saddles a horse, Loki takes Thor by the shoulder and guides him back inside, and to the couch. Until Steve comes back in, there’s nothing he can do.

Sat up with his leg stretched out, trying to read a book, is the most restless Thor has felt since he woke up. Incidentally, today is of course the day where his injuries had to flare up and hold him down more than they have been. His damn leg and his damn lungs... His arm hurts a lot too, the pain shooting in all directions if he moves wrong, but he can run with just a fucked arm. He could stay close to Steve with just a fucked arm, keep up and persist until he got the answers he needs.

The rains come, but Steve doesn’t return for a little while. When he does, he’s drenched, but laughing alongside Bucky as they go straight up the stairs together, and disappear. Thor leans back with a sigh and lays his open book on his belly, completely at a loss. So long as Steve isn’t alone, that’s fine, right? Maybe he talked to Bucky. Bucky’s known Steve all their lives, so if anyone knows what to do, it would be him.

But Bucky comes down to collect some lunch to bring up, and gives Thor a shrug and shake of his head as he passes – no luck.

When it comes time for dinner, they eat separately, Loki bringing Thor something in the sitting room. Thor is anxious and worried, but there’s nothing he can do but eat and wait and hope. Eventually, it’s bedtime, and he still hasn’t seen Steve. Loki is the one who comes with him to the bedroom, helping him to get changed, lie down on the bed, and work through his exercises. Of course, it hurts more than usual, but Loki does as is necessary, regardless of his brother’s groans of pain with each pull and twist.

Thor lies there staring at the ceiling while his brother walks away, wondering what the hell he’s supposed to do now. Did he go too far, or not far enough? Maybe if he knew just the right words to say...

“Stop worrying so much. You’re giving me a headache.” Loki is back with a couple of heating pads and a hot water bottle, staring down with disapproval.

“I can’t help it,” Thor retorts. “Ow.” He bites his lip as Loki pushes him forward so he can tuck the pad behind his back.

Loki rests him back very gently and lays the other pad across his shoulder. Immediately, the heat sinks in and feels better. His brother tucks the hot water bottle under his leg and pulls up the blankets, perfectly balancing his caring touches with his mildly annoyed frown. “It may be out of your hands.”

“I’ve barely done anything,” Thor protests. “We haven’t spoken. Not properly...”

“Then do the best you can, and you have nothing to be worried about.”

“I don’t know what the best  _ is! _ " Thor pleads.

“Does anyone?” Loki snorts. “Go to sleep. Shall I leave on the lamp?”

“Yes, please.” Thor watches his brother leave and shut off the bedroom light, closing the door behind him. He sighs and tries not to think so hard about Steve and their predicament, but it’s difficult. It’s been a while since he cared about anyone this much. Steve has captured his heart so effectively in such a short time... It sounds dramatic, but he’s been reminded what it feels like to love again. Maybe it’s too soon to say that about Steve, but Thor has always fallen hard and fast. Love or not, it has the potential to grow, and he won’t let this chance pass him by. He won’t let Steve flounder alone in whatever is bothering him.

Loki may be right that nobody knows what’s best, but he’s not right about not worrying even if the best has been done. Even if he were right, it wouldn’t be enough to stop Thor from worrying constantly. Fuck-all he can do about it though... It feels so good to rest in bed while the heat does its job, and he hates it. He hates how fucking useless he is.

The door creaks and he looks up to see Steve standing there, peering around the frame hesitantly.

“Steve...” Thor licks his lips and sits up a little.

It’s all the invitation Steve needs; he slips into the room and shuts the door behind him, hurrying over and crawling onto the bed. He’s shaking in the lamplight, sliding his hand under Thor’s head and bending down for a wanting kiss. It starts slow, but quickly builds in intensity and need. It tastes and feels amazing, taking him out of his body until they pull apart and he crashes back to himself.

“Steve, I-” Thor starts, but Steve cuts him off with a new kiss, more possessive now and starting to shove back the blankets. Steve is going right for it, sitting up only so he can pull off his shirt before plunging back into Thor’s mouth. His hands dive under the covers for Thor’s pants, pushing them down at the waistband. Thor pulls away at that moment, pushing his hand into Steve’s shoulder to separate them. “No,” he says. “Steve, not tonight.”

“Why not?” Steve rasps, torn between aroused and disappointed. “You don’t want it?”

“I do,” Thor pleads. “Believe me I do,  _ but _ -” he catches Steve’s hand straying toward his underwear, “Steve! Stop it. I do. But not tonight. Please.”

“You don’t want me?” Steve asks.

“I did not say that,” Thor replies calmly. “I’m just too sore-”

“Then let me take care of you,” Steve begs. “I can make it go away-”

“I said no,” Thor doesn’t mean to snap. Immediately, Steve freezes, his body trembling with more force and his eyes starting to well up. His lips are parted like he wants to say something, but he can’t make the words come out. Thor softens quickly, taking Steve’s hand and rubbing his thumb across the knuckles. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I want  you, I promise. I want you so badly that it’s difficult to turn you down, but I must, because I cannot allow you to do this to yourself time and time again.”

“I’m not doing anything to myself,” Steve shakes his head, on the verge of tears. “Please, Thor. I want to do it, for you. You saved my life, and I-”

“You owe me nothing,” Thor interjects, squeezing Steve’s hand. “Certainly not sex. I want us to have it because you care about me, not because you feel a debt must be repaid. I want to have sex and take our time, but you’ve grown too hasty, and it isn’t... It isn’t what it was.”

“I do care about you,” Steve leaps. “I care about you so much.”

“Then no sex tonight,” Thor begs. “Please, Steve. Just rest. Rest with me. And the next time we do something, I want you to take your time and enjoy yourself. That would bring me great pleasure.”

“I can go slow tonight-”

“No,” Thor says firmly. “Steve... Not tonight. I don’t want it.”

Finally, Steve gives up, sitting back, gathering tears on the verge of spilling out. “I’m sorry,” he whispers brokenly. “I’m so sorry,  I.. I forced myself on you, and you said no, and I-”

“Steve,” Thor pulls on Steve’s hand. “You did no such thing. I accepted your advances.”

“I’m still sorry,” Steve tries to pull his hand away so it can join the other on his face, trying to plug his leaking eyes.

“It’s alright,” Thor whispers. “Steve... come here. It’s alright.”

Finally, Steve gives in, coming closer and leaning down, squeezing his eyes shut as he lays his head on Thor’s shoulder. Thor tries to help get the blankets over both of them, and they manage to pull them back up without having to move much from their position. Thor wraps his arm around Steve’s back and strokes his ribs with his thumb.

“It’s alright,” he murmurs into Steve’s ruffled hair.

Steve curls up tightly against him and breathes ragged, jumpy breaths through tight sobs. It sounds painful. There’s not much Thor can do but hold on and wait this through, trying to coax some rhythm into Steve’s chest by continuing to rub up, and down.

After a while, Steve settles, still shaking, but managing to breathe somewhat normally. “I’m sorry...” he croaks. “I didn’t... I didn’t mean...”

“I know,” Thor replies softly. “It’s alright.”

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No,” Thor reassures.

“Can I get you anything?”

“You can stay right here,” Thor replies. “That would please me.”

“It’d please me too,” Steve mumbles, shuffling to get more comfortable.

“Good, then get some sleep,” Thor coaxes.  _ Heaven only knows how much you need it. _

\--

It’s obvious come morning that Steve’s hasn’t slept much once again; it’s obvious in his face when he comes into the room as Thor is just waking up.

“Morning,” Steve smiles, but it’s weak and bashful. “Rainy day again...”

“Steve-” Thor starts, but cuts himself short the moment he tries to sit. Despite what the heating pads did for him, he’s still disastrously stiff. He presses his teeth together, struggling to sit up all the way. His plans to continue yesterday’s discussion collapse. 

“Here,” Steve flies to his side to help. “Just stay there.”

Thor has no choice but to obey, slumped in favor of his tightened back muscles, each inhalation pulling on the scar tissue inside him. It feels like he’s coming apart.  _ Fuck. _ Just when he thought he had a chance, the odds stack against him. He needs to find some way of keeping Steve from running away.

“Pills,” Steve is back, handing over his dose. Thor swallows them and washes them down with a gulp of water, praying they help while Steve starts to dress him. Thor is confident that he could manage on his own, but it’s definitely preferable to receive the help.

“Thanks,” he smiles up at Steve, rubbing his eyes clear of sleep.

“I’ll warm those pads up,” Steve nods to them on the bed while he does up the sling. Once the straps are tightened, he takes Thor’s face and leans down for a slow, tender kiss. “Hey, sometimes it’s two steps forward, one step back, right?”

“It feels like the other way around.”

“You’ll feel better soon,” Steve promises.

Thor believes it. “Steve?”

“Yeah?” Steve looks down at him trustingly.

“We never had that talk...”

The effect is immediate; Steve stiffens once again, but tries to play it off. “No, I guess we didn’t... Maybe we should have breakfast first.”

“But-”

“It’s getting cold.” Steve hands him his cane. “Come on. The others are waiting.”

Thor falls silent again as they walk into the dining room for scones and chopped fruit. It’s as if yesterday never happened. Steve assimilates with his family once more, and they all enjoy their meal together. Tension hangs in the air, though, along with the cool freshness of rainy air. The sky is washed grey, black clouds in the distance rushing closer. It’s going to be one hell of a storm.

Steve gets up first, but Thor is watching more closely this time, and he rises to his feet to pursue, waiting until there’s some distance between them and the dining room before calling out. “Steve,” he tries.

Steve doesn’t stop, gathering pace. Already, Thor couldn’t hope to match his friend’s normal walking speed, but he tries. It hurts, but he can do it if he forgets his aches and pushes forward.

“Steve, I just want to talk. Or... I’ll listen. I won’t say a word.” He’s pleading now, and Steve is only gathering pace, starting to jog across the sitting room and out the back door. Thor picks up his cane and jogs after him, heavily lopsided and out of breath before he’s barely begun. “Steve, please...”

Steve hops down the steps into the stables and starts to run between the stalls, toward the sheet of rain that leads out into the field.

“Steve!” Thor barks. “I will not let you suffer in silence or solitude!”

Nothing he says matters. Steve’s gait takes on that frantic quality, and he’s visibly shaking again as he runs through the sheet of rain and out into the storm. Thor follows, wincing as he’s instantly soaked, but persisting. He needs to catch up, before Steve gets away from him.

“Steve!” Thor doesn’t know what to say anymore, but he has to try. He moves as fast as he can on the slippery grass, abandoning his cane so he can shield his face from the onslaught of rain and the cold wind burning his eyes. “Steve, stop-!” His call is cut off by a yelp as his foot catches on something and he falls straight down with a wet thump, smacking into the sodden earth. The wind batters him, and he can’t breathe at all, can’t make his limbs move to right himself again. He wrestles, but his foot is stuck, and the cold is hampering him just as much as the pain is. Helpless under the vengeful sky, he looks up.

Steve has slowed for a moment, looking over his shoulder, his hair and clothes plastered to his body. His eyes are lost, as if he’s seeing something else, but his expression twists with confusion as he makes eye contact with Thor. It only lasts for a second before Steve is turning around to run away.

Thor scrambles, but he can’t find purchase, and his whole body is conspiring against him. “Steve!” he yells, but the rain dampens him.

“Thor!” Someone else is shouting from behind, rapidly growing closer. Hands are on him, and he jumps, turning to see Loki kneeling beside him, his expensive clothing completely soaked and his expression wrought with worry. “Thor.” It’s all anyone can seem to say, is names. Thor squeezes his eyes shut and falls still so his brother can take his ankle and free his foot from the hole he tripped in. “Damned rabbits,” Loki mutters. “Are you alright?”

“That really hurt,” Thor coughs, wrapping his arm around his brother’s neck so he can be aided to his feet.

“Inside,” Loki says gently. “Before you catch something.”

“You can’t get sick just from rain,” Thor protests, trying to pull away in the direction Steve went. “Loki, please...”

“ _ You _ can get sick,” Loki snaps. “And I will be most disappointed if you come down with pneumonia because you were too stupid to stay out of the cold and the damp. That’s the last thing you need.”

Loki is right: Thor knows his lungs are still recovering, and if he’s not careful pneumonia could knock his feet from under him and set back weeks of recovery. It could put him back in the ICU, and nobody needs that. Still, he can’t give up the chase so easily. “But Steve-”

“James is saddling a horse,” Loki says, sternly turning Thor toward the house. “This is out of your hands.”

“But he’s-” Thor starts, just as he takes his first couple of steps. His leg throbs, and he’s forced to lean harder into his brother’s support.

“Perhaps a chase isn’t what either of you need,” Loki advises. “He’s frightened. You may need to let him come to you.”

“What if he doesn’t?”

“Then he doesn’t.”

“What if he needs me?”

“Then he will come,” Loki assures patiently, scooping up Thor’s cane as he passes it, but not relinquishing his grip. “You’ll be of no use to anyone if you don’t take care of yourself.”

“I can’t lie around and simply wait!” Thor protests. “I’ve done plenty of that!”

“And you will do as much as is necessary!” Loki orders back. “Leave Steve be for the moment! He is not alone without you.”

No, but Thor made a promise. He drops his head in defeat. He has no choice but to let Loki help him back inside the house, feeling weaker than he has in weeks. The warmth of the house is a welcome relief, even though it only adds to the ache in his chest that Steve is still out there in the cold. The rest of the household are waiting by the door, but he can’t look at them.

“I’ll make some lunch,” Sarah says quietly, turning away from the storm. “Tony, would you put some coffee on please?”

They part ways, Loki bringing Thor through the bedroom and straight to the bathroom, where he deposits his dripping brother on the toilet. Loki spins on his heel and pulls a stack of folded towels from the cupboard. He puts them on the counter and bends down to loosen the sling straps. “If you take  ill I’ll shoot you,” he grumbles.

Thor has nothing to say, and he can’t manage the effort to make his chattering teeth make words anyway. Obediently, he allows Loki to undress him and wrap him in towels. Numbly, he summons what strength he can to slowly rub himself dry, at least the parts of him he can reach; he hurts far worse than he did this morning, and it’s almost impossible to twist or bend over. His shoulder is shooting pulses of pain up his neck, down his arm, and across his chest while his back muscles are cinching tighter and tighter until he’s sure they’ll snap. Breathing hurts, but he soldiers through and breathes as deeply as he can manage, fully inflating his lungs.

Loki comes back dressed in clean clothes, his hair damp and tousled as if he’s only briefly rubbed it with a towel. There is another outfit in his arms, one which he leaves on the counter while he pats Thor dry. “God, you’re an idiot,” Loki shakes his head. “Some things never change.”

Thor can’t help but smile at that, which only makes Loki scowl deeper, and Thor smile brighter. It’s not much, but it’s something. “You know, you haven’t changed much either.”

“Really? Because I feel like I’ve aged a thousand years,” Loki scoffs, tenderly rubbing Thor’s short hair dry.

“Well that makes two of us,” Thor agrees softly.

“You look like you’ve been put through a meat grinder,” Loki retorts dryly, unfolding a t-shirt and brandishing it.

“Feels like it,” Thor agrees, turning his wounded arm off his chest so the shirt can be fed onto it.

Loki dresses him in silence, then helps him to his feet and out to the bed. His limp has vastly deepened, and it’s a relief to be rested comfortably on his back. Attentively, Loki positions him, making sure he’s propped high enough and keeping the duvet off so he can inspect Thor’s leg. The knee joint looks newly swollen, but nothing is out of place, only irritated. Loki feels along it and sighs when he discovers nothing worth noting. He walks off to find the heating pads.

Thor looks out the window at the persisting storm. The rain pulverizing the roof is soothing, but he can’t help be worried about Steve. Had Bucky caught up with him yet? Are they coming back inside? Is Steve really alright...? The look Steve gave him is burned into his brain, and he doesn’t know what to make of it.

Loki returns with the heating pads and some ice for Thor’s leg, laying everything where it needs to be before tucking his brother under the duvet. “Rest,” he orders.

This isn’t how Thor envisioned he would spend his day, but he doesn’t have a choice. He nods quietly.

As Loki walks out, Sarah walks in, a tray in her hands. She sets it across his lap and strokes back his bangs, kissing his forehead. “Would you like me to stay?” she asks.

He smiles gratefully up at her. “Thank you. I’m alright.”

“Okay,” she agrees. “Just shout if you need something.”

“I will,” he promises. “Thank you.”

Thor waits until she’s rested the door shut to observe his lunch; a toasted sandwich and a mug of coffee. The coffee warms the chill in his chest and eases his shivering, and soon enough he’s warm again. He enjoys his lunch to the sound of rain and thinks as hard as he can. Even if there truly is nothing he can do, he’s not certain he could accept that.

\--

Thor spends the rest of the day in bed. After lunch, he reads for a little while before the sound of unending rain lulls him to sleep. Someone comes into the room a couple of times to check his temperature, but he’s only partially aware of their presence, so he can’t say who it is.

When he wakes up again, the tray is gone, and his book is on the nightstand with a fresh glass of water next to it. Thor drinks from it steadily until all the water is gone. The clock tells him it’s late afternoon, and still the storm hasn’t stopped.

With a sigh, he takes up his book again and tries to pass the time. His thoughts quickly overpower the words on the pages, but he still can’t come to any conclusions no matter how hard he tries. Maybe nothing he says will help.

Eventually, supper comes around, and he puts down his book to listen to the sound of people moving around in the kitchen. He presumes Steve is safe somewhere, or someone would have told him by now. He can hear Sarah and Loki talking casually to each other as they prepare the meal.

A little while later, Loki enters with a tray and sets it across Thor’s lap. There are rice noodles covered in what looks like home-made tomato sauce. The smell of herbs and vegetables and chicken all blend together into a wonderous mixture. There’s a thick slice of garlic-buttered bread and tall glass of orange juice alongside it. Typical of Sarah’s cooking, it looks simply delicious.

Loki shakes out a napkin and tucks it into Thor’s shirt, checking his brother’s forehead with the back of his hand. “Well, you’re not sick yet.”

“Don’t sound so hopeful,” Thor smiles, picking up his fork. “Will you come eat with me?”

“I suppose you would be bearable company,” Loki whirls around, returning shortly with a chair and a serving of his own.

“Any word of Steve?” Thor asks, unable to stop himself from inquiring. He twirls up some noodles and carefully aims the fork into his mouth.

“He’s inside,” Loki explains, cradling his bowl and gathering up some noodles. “Upstairs, with his friends. Doing what, I don’t know.”

“Did I say something wrong?” Thor mumbles, gathering another portion into his mouth.

“This is not your burden, brother,” Loki wisely comments. “Not solely yours, at least. Nor is it fair to expect results, from yourself or from Steve.”

Thor sighs, refreshing his mouth with juice. “No... I suppose not. I only want to help.”

“I know,” Loki says. “As you do.”

“ So do you,” Thor smiles at his brother.

Loki flicks his eyes up to Thor’s, then back down to his dinner. He twirls contemplatively into the noodles. “Yes, I do. You are my brother, and I’ve abandoned you for too long to allow you to flounder on your own. Besides, I would trust no-one else to take care of you properly.”

“You’d trust Steve,” Thor counters.

“Yes, but where would he take you?” Loki snorts. “To somewhere of Fury’s choosing, I suspect.”

Thor smiles. “It is very nice here.”

\--

The brothers finish their dinner together, and Loki stays until everyone else is finished and returning their dishes to the kitchen. At which time, Loki goes off to help clean up, leaving Thor with a full belly and a pleasant taste at the back of his throat. The storm is no longer so violent, but the rain is still pelting down with enough force to provide that soothing background tune. Thor does his best to purge his mind and allow his book to fill it instead for a few more hours.

As night approaches, the sky darkening early into the evening now that fall is setting in, Loki returns. He helps his brother through his exercises, a little gentler than usual but still making sure every single one is completed rigorously. Afterwards, Loki makes sure the water glass is full, and that Thor is comfortable before turning on the lamp, turning off the light, and shutting the door behind him with a soft ‘good-night’.

Thor shuts his eyes, but they aren’t closed for long before once again he hears the door click open. Once again, when he looks over, it’s Steve poking his head in tentatively. “Steve,” Thor can’t stop himself from moving a little too suddenly, and the deep-set pain all through his body seizes him. 

Steve runs over to still him, his hands shaking as they land on Thor’s shoulder and stomach. “I’m so sorry,” Steve whispers. “What can I do?”

“It’s alright,” Thor finds himself reassuring yet again. “Steve, really. It’s the weather’s fault, and mine for chasing you, and just... You could come sleep with me, if you like...”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees hastily, pulling off his jeans and t-shirt and carefully finding his place against Thor’s side. Steve’s entire body is still shaking. Thor can’t remember the last time it  _ wasn’t _ shaking.

“Steve?” he says, running his fingers through his partner’s hair. “You can talk to me about anything... I may not have all the answers, but I will listen, and I will do what I can to help. That I can promise you. But you must in return promise to speak to someone. It need not be me. Just... please.”

Thor feels his own chest tighten, as tears already dribble out of Steve, followed by a few quiet sobs and a tight squeeze. But no words. That’s fine.

“No-one will judge you, or think less of you,” Thor promises, continuing to stroke Steve’s hair as the other man clings needily to him. “Please, Steve, I know you don’t sleep much, and I suspect you aren’t eating properly either. You’re going to make yourself sick, or collapse. You need to speak to someone.”

Steve is a stoic guy, but weeks’ worth of sleep deprivation make it difficult to maintain those sorts of dispositions. At the offer, Steve completely unravels once more, crying freely into Thor’s shoulder while he hangs on tight. And Thor shuts his mouth and doesn’t worry about what to say this time, letting the silence linger as he lets Steve have the  time he needs to release whatever is pent up inside him. He strokes tirelessly, smoothing out Steve rain-washed hair.

The sobs slow at last, and Steve sniffs wetly, swallowing painfully. He opens his mouth and breathes a few ragged breaths before speaking in a strained and timid voice. “I promise,” he says finally. “I can’t... I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Relief sinks into Thor’s heart when he hears those words, a plain admission that something is wrong. He kisses Steve’s head gratefully. “Thank you,” he replies. “Whatever you need, we’ll find a way to get it. For now, what can I do?”

He prepares himself to shut up, if that’s what Steve wants but, that’s not what Steve asks for. “I’m scared,” Steve whimpers. “I try to relax, but I don’t feel safe. I just can’t get my mind off it... I’m so fuckin’ tired, but  every time I shut my  eyes I’m back there...”

“Then how can I remind you that you’re here with me?” Thor asks.

Steve pauses at that one, swallowing again. “Sex helped...” he finally admits. “God, Thor, I’m so sorry... I used you-”

“You did not use me,” Thor reassures. “It started as something you did to make me feel better, and perhaps you discovered some other benefits along the way.”

“But I-”

“You did not. I know you, and I know you wouldn’t do such a thing. Certainly not intentionally,” Thor reassures firmly. “If you must insist, then consider it forgiven.”

“I’m still sorry,” Steve grabs a handful of Thor’s shirt. “You fell and I left you there... Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” Thor reassures. “You should rest, Steve. I’ll be right here.”

Steve shivers. “I can’t...” he moans. “I’m scared...”

“And if the nightmares come back, then I’ll be here. I’ve slept all day. I’ve got more than enough energy to keep watch over you,” Thor promises. “Nothing will harm you here.” They just have to start with tonight. If Steve catches up on some much-needed rest, it’ll be easier to talk to him tomorrow. Thor fully believes Steve’s promise to talk.

“Nowhere feels safe,” Steve admits, muffled by Thor’s chest. “I feel like they’re out there waiting for me...”

“They will not find you here,” Thor promises. He won’t be able to reason away the fear, but saying these truths out loud might help in the short term. “They will not best you. They tried, and they failed. You have the scar and your life and your bright smile to prove it.”

Steve doesn’t say anything, but Thor can hear that more tears are on their way. It must be frustrating, knowing one thing is true, but feeling another. Thor can’t imagine how Steve is feeling, a civilian who’s been dropped into this without any training, but Thor himself is not unaffected by his work, regardless of how long he’s spent training, and how many missions he’s been on to get used to trauma-causing events.

“You know, I get nightmares of work as well,” Thor mentions, rubbing his fingers into Steve’s head. “It gets easier, but such a thing can never become totally natural. They taught me how to compartmentalize, but even  then I can’t help but be afraid sometimes. It’s normal.”

Steve sniffs. “You told me you were too stupid to be scared.”

Thor smiles. “Would you be angry if I told you I sort-of lied to make you feel better? I get scared more than I admitted to.”

“Were you scared when HYDRA had you?” Steve asks.

“More for your sake,” Thor says. “But yes. Scared that no matter what I did, it would not be enough. I was scared lots of other times too.”

“Are you scared now? That they’ll find us again?”

“Cautious,” Thor admits. “But not scared. I know they’re still out there, but I trust my brother’s confidentiality and secrecy will protect us.”

“What if... what if I’m still scared?” Steve whispers even quieter.

“Then... we go somewhere else. Somewhere far from here.” Thor suggests. “Would that help?”

“...Maybe,” Steve murmurs, sniffing again. “I just don’t know...”

“What about your family?” Thor asks. “What are their thoughts?”

“I don’t know,” Steve says. “I haven’t talked to them much... They don’t understand. They didn’t see what I saw.” He shivers again, and Thor holds him tighter.

“Can you wait just a little longer?” Thor says. “Maybe a few more days... We can fly to Australia, just the two of us. I own a house there. Not as luxurious as here, but there’s plenty of private beach if you want to swim or sunbathe. It’s so remote that you have to drive forty minutes to get to town. Safest place I know.” A change of scenery might help. Thor is hesitant to bring Steve away on his own, but if that helps him open up, then they can go from there. Once Steve gets the sleep he needs, he may be more open to discussion, and to external help. Thor may experience PTSD, but that doesn’t mean he knows how to help Steve with his. Not completely, at least.

And that’s what this is: PTSD. He’s sure of it.

“That... that might be nice,” Steve’s whisper is a little more relaxed. “Just you and me?”

“Just you and me,” Thor agrees. “You’ll have to wait until I’m a bit more on my feet, if that’s alright...”

“Of course,” Steve hastily replies. “Thor, of course.”

“Then it will be done,” Thor smiles and kisses his head. “Loki can sort us out what we’ll need, and I can speak with your family.”

Steve sighs, his grip loosening a little.

“Sleep,” Thor urges. “I will protect you.” 


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for sex right at the end of this chapter. With light BDSM elements, I guess? As usual, I don't really know what I'm doing, but I like a challenge. I hope you like it. I don't like to include sex unless I think it benefits the story, but I gotta admit it's kinda fun. Of course I'm always open to tips and comments so I can improve for next time!
> 
> Thanks for the feedback, and enjoy B)

Neither of them sleeps much on the flight over; Steve is too scared, and he suspects Thor stays awake to keep him company. It’s a  _ long _ flight though, and by the time the journey is over, both of them are ready to collapse. Steve takes in very little of the surroundings, even once they’re out of the plane and into a taxi.

They say very little, or Steve does at least. He hasn’t said much since he admitted there’s something wrong with him. Keeping up his former pretenses that everything’s okay is pointless now, and he has nothing to replace it with.  So he keeps close to Thor and tries to focus on the world around him.

Thor hasn't pressed, just keeping up his easy company. He’s the only thing that feels real and safe. Steve can tell his family is struggling with that, and he wishes he could be more open with them, but they just  _ don’t get it. _ That’s not their fault. They want to help, but he doesn’t know how they can. He doesn’t even know how to help himself. He doesn’t know how to convince himself that he’s safe.

It’s difficult when Thor leaves on his last couple of check-ups before their flight out, but Steve bears it. Life is going to be very difficult if he needs Thor to hold his hand at all times. But Thor  _ does _ hold his hand through the majority of their travel, as much as is possible, and it  _ does _ help.

Now they’re in another country altogether, alone, with their meager belongings, leaving the taxi to walk the rest of the way down the trail to the cabin. Thor is limping a lot worse than when they left Loki’s house many hours ago, a result of spending so much time either on his feet, or trapped in an airplane seat. At the very least, Loki got them first-class seats, so they were as comfortable as they could be.

Steve slips his arm around Thor’s waist to take some of the weight off, the view beautiful enough to take him out of his own head. This will be their own little paradise for the next indefinite amount of time. It’s even more secluded than Loki’s house, protected by forest to the back, and ocean to the front. No-one is finding them here. The sun is warm when they emerge from the trail and it hits them straight-on. The sand looks soft, and the water warm. A small dirt road leads up to the house, where a 4x4 is parked – Thor's. The house itself looks sturdy and quaint, but large enough for two people to live comfortably.

Inside, the décor is minimal, but pleasing. The walls are painted in pearl white, trimmed with blue and dark wood. The sun warms the main room, shining gold on the polished wood-paneled floor. They walk to the kitchen to unload the groceries they picked up on the way, filling the fridge and pantry haphazardly before dumping the rest of their stuff on the floor. Thor takes Steve by the wrist and leads him down the hallway to the master bedroom, where a large bed awaits them. Too tired to mull over anything, Steve fumbles off his clothes while helping Thor with his. Everything goes straight on the floor, and they shuffle under the blankets, curling up in a tight cluster of limbs and falling right to sleep.

\--

Steve wakes up first, as usual. Thor may be getting better, requiring less and less sleep as the days go on, but anxiety always gets Steve up first. Both of them have slept longer than usual, and Steve has to admit he feels a little better... Maybe this is the first of many good sleeps to come.

Wiping sleep from his eyes, Steve carefully untangles himself from Thor’s squeezing arm and grappling leg, tucking his partner back under the covers and admiring him for a moment or two. Thor is sleeping deeply, his face totally relaxed and his chest expanding and contracting as healthily as ever. He’s doing so much better, even if he has a lot of weight to put back on once he’s cleared for more strenuous activities. That isn’t far down the road; he’s already allowed to do some more intensive lower-body exercises, and in a week or two more he’ll be allowed to start light work with his arms.

The scars look a lot better, but the one on his shoulder looks the worst, bumpy and still pink despite the weeks of healing it’s undergone. Thor is allowed to use his arm for non-strenuous tasks, and the PT is helping, but his range of motion at the shoulder joint is severely limited.

But despite it all, Thor has been in good spirits from the moment he woke up in the hospital, a shade warmed than death. Steve wishes he could feel that way, too, and he hates to be the one to bring the mood down. He wishes he could just... be happy, enjoy life at the height of luxury in Loki’s mansion, with all his family, and Thor. All of them, safe. What more could he ask for?

Steve rubs his face and leaves the bedroom, closing the door behind him and walking out to find a clock. It’s midday. What time was it when they got in...? He has no idea. All he knows is that he’s hungry, but he can’t find the energy to make himself anything to eat. Instead, he sits heavily on the sofa looking down the short slope covered in luscious grass to the wide expanse of sand, and the even larger expanse of water. It’s like they’re on the edge of the world, with nothing but water stretching into infinity.

Steve sits there for a while until it dawns on him that he’s still naked. He gets up and retrieves their bags from the kitchen, opening them. Thor cane, which they’re brought with them for precaution, he hangs on the coat rack by the door. They haven’t brought many clothes with them, but then, it’s warm enough that they won’t need to wear many that often, and there isn’t anyone to be modest in front of. Steve still pulls out a set of clothes Loki purchased for him and dresses.

“You’re up early.”

Steve looks up to see Thor there, smiling teasingly and rubbing sleep from his eyes, his arm hugged to his chest. Despite all the weight he’s lost, and the pallor of his skin from lack of exposure, Thor is still a sight to see, still tall and faintly outlined with muscles that promise to return when he’s able to put the work in. Steve doesn’t mind at all that Thor’s t-shirts don’t hug him like they did when they met – Thor is healthy, and that’s what matters. Besides, he’s still undeniably handsome, especially with his whole body on display. The tattoos, the scars, all of it. All of it is his.

“You look good,” Steve remarks once he’s recovered, straightening from their bags for the kiss coming his way. Thor’s bristled lips tickle his smooth face, and he can’t help but smile.

Thor beams, walking to the sink for water. “It’s nice to be home.”

“This place is pretty nice,” Steve agrees. “How you feelin’?”

“Better than yesterday,” Thor chuckles.

“Good. You  wanna do those exercises?”

“After breakfast,” Thor suggests. “Er, late lunch.”

That would be smart, and Steve isn’t about to turn down the offer. That will only spark a discussion that he really doesn’t want to have right now. It’ll come, but for now he just wants to enjoy the stunning company in this stunning location. He raises his eyebrow and lets his eyes drop down low. “Maybe put some pants on first.”

“That would not be a very filling breakfast,” Thor agrees with a shrug, turning away from the marble counter-top to their bags and bending down for clean clothes. He looks up with the beginnings of a sly grin. “At least not in the nutritive sense.”

Steve can’t help but flush and smile at the joke, and the accompanying imagery. There’s no denying he would enjoy what Thor’s offering for breakfast, certainly as another course. They haven’t had sex in a while though, neither of them offering. It’s not been on either of their minds much lately, and Steve still feels bad about what their sex had become. Worst of all, he knows he would struggle not to fall back into that routine if they decided to partake in physical intimacy.

It’s the only place where Steve feels he has control. When everything else was falling apart, he could guarantee that he could make Thor orgasm under his hands and mouth. It’s growing harder and harder to fight back the desire to have that again, even though he knows he’ll go too fast, and he  _ knows _ Thor doesn’t want that.

Thor wants them to take their time. Thor wants to have proper penetrative sex, and Steve wants that too, he just wants their usual routine more.  _ Thinks _ he wants it, at least; it’s hard to know what he wants (and what he needs) going off his own thoughts alone. Steve doesn’t trust his own rational thoughts much these days.

Thor has walked off to his bedroom to find some clothes other than what he packed, returning in a pair of board shorts that sit low on his hips. He starts to rummage through what they have, and Steve joins him to help make sandwiches. They bring them outside into the clean air, out where the only sound is the wind through the trees and the lapping of waves. Thor finds a couple of chairs and unfolds them onto the sand, and they sit back to eat and watch the world. The waves are so rhythmic Steve wonders if he might sleep better to their sound. They help empty his mind and hold him there in a state of peace.

There’s a glimmer of hope the peace may last, because even though the shadow of the problem remains lurking, Steve feels happy for the first couple of days. The change of scenery pushes everything back, and he’s able to enjoy his time with Thor on the idyllic Australian coast-line. He sleeps, he eats. He smiles and laughs and drives Thor’s 4x4 when they leave the house to do a proper grocery run. It’s jarring to suddenly be part of society again, but with Thor at his side, surrounded by such friendly people, and still drugged by the beautiful view that lies just outside the door, he manages. It feels like a sign that he’s alright, that all he needed was time to heal and a new place away from where the trauma happened. It feels like a victory. He feels lighter and more open to conversation as they drive home, laughing as Thor tells him a story about mundane life. It feels so easy, like he’s living in a daydream instead of constantly  drifting into a nightmare.

It feels good to share in Thor’s happiness. They make dinner together, Steve marveling over products they don’t have in the States, then they sit on the sofa to watch the sunset while they eat. When they finish, Thor wraps his arm around Steve’s shoulders and tells him about the time he took a fishing boat into the ocean and caught the biggest barramundi he’d ever seen. For a little while, Steve wonders if the mission ever happened.

\--

He wonders until he dreams about it again, and he bolts upright in bed in the middle of his fourth night. Steve sits there panting and choking, rubbing his wrists to make sure he’s not in that chair, searching the inky shadows for enemies. He sits frozen in place, cool air sending chills down his sweat-soaked back, staring terrified into what his mind convinces him is hiding in the black.

Thor’s mumble and drowsily-searching hand shake him from his locked position. Steve looks down at Thor, still asleep beside him, his growing bangs flopped in his face adorably and his lips saying something only he can hear. His hand pats the sheets clumsily. Shaking, Steve lowers himself back down and desperately wraps Thor’s arm around himself, too scared to leave the bed. All he wants is Thor. Throughout everything, Thor is the one who has defied every mounting odd to protect him. There are none stronger than Thor. Thor might not be the stack of muscle he was, but he’s still big and strong and warm, eager to draw Steve tightly into him even though he’s asleep. Steve buries his shoulders into Thor’s chest and huddles up, trying to shut his eyes but finding himself unable.

That morning brings the same fatigue he was growing used to feeling, and the crashing realization that he’s far from okay. All of that peace was just the ocean leaking out of the bay before the sudden rise of the tide. Time won’t fix this. Travelling won’t fix this. Steve doesn’t know what will. Maybe time  _ will _ fix this, and he just has to wait longer. Maybe he won’t be okay for months, or years to come. What if he can never leave this bay? What if he can never leave Thor’s side? He’ll be trapped, and he can’t expect that of Thor. What if he traps Thor here, with him? What if-

Steve sits out of bed in the rays of early sun and turns his legs from under the covers, rubbing his face. He looks back at Thor’s slumbering shape and wonders if he should wake up his partner. They’re more than fuck-buddies (even if they haven’t done much of the fucking part lately) - they’re a team. They’re friends. If they could get through some of the things they’ve surmounted before, then they can get through this, surely. Steve can’t bring himself to wake Thor up, though, not when Thor is sleeping so deeply. Thor needs that rest to heal. He’s working hard every day to get better, and he can’t recover if he doesn’t rest. Doesn’t Thor deserve to rest? Thor nearly  _ died _ for him, pushed through immeasurable pain for him, is still dealing with the aftermath of that and will for the rest of his life. Can’t the man rest?

Steve can take care of himself. He  _ will _ take care of himself; he walks to the bathroom and shuts the door, flicking on the fan.

Today, his reflection takes him more than usual. Steve tries not to look at it too much, but today the passing glance draws his eye back to himself, and he stares into his own eyes. They’re framed with sleepless purple bruises, and even though his skin is as pale as always, he can spot the faint scar on his forehead where the skin split from impact on that car window. There’s a mark on his cheek, too, where Rollins’ punches took the skin off. If he stares at his chest, he can see a couple of faint blotches from the electric baton. Of course, there’s the deep scar on his arm where the bullet tore a gouge deep enough to ache for a week after it was stitched and bandaged. Luckily, it never got in the way of taking care of Thor. Steve runs his fingers over the slight dip in the skin. The wound healed well, but the scar stands out plainly.

Physically, he hasn’t changed much, but those differences stand out to him. Even the frames of his glasses are different, and though they are changeable unlike his scars, they still contribute to the tightness in his chest. Such small differences, small enough that they can be covered or missed in passing – he's still recognizable, but he feels different, like an imposter. He doesn’t feel like himself.

Tears are quickly blurring his vision. Steve hasn’t cried since he broke down for the first time in Thor’s bed weeks ago, but he can’t stop himself now. He can’t stand to look at himself, stumbling away from the mirror as he turns his head away, tears running down his cheeks and neck to gather in the well of his collarbone, then running down the middle of his chest. His limbs start to give out to tremors, and he falls backwards into the corner between the tub and the wall with a dull thud.

There, he draws in his knees and sobs into them, staring at the door for fear of shutting his eyes and plunging himself back into the cell where that man would have done who-knows-what to him. Well, Steve may not know, but he can sure as fuck guess. He has a creative imagination, which has no trouble summoning imagery of what those tools on the tray could have been used for while men in the shadows watched for pleasure, laughing at his fear and pain.

Steve has to tighten his grip on his knees to make sure he’s not spread out in that chair. He squeezes to reaffirm his freedom, but his mind is quickly falling into the chains of the nightmare.

It’s a vast and efficient nightmare, not caring for the chronological order of things, nor the separation of events. It blends everything into one crashing wave. Along with the crackle of the baton and the sneer of the bearer comes the blast of gunshots. Engines roar in his ears, and he can feel the cold metal of the gun in his hand when he held it to Rollins’ head. He can feel the backfire of the gun up his wrist when he shot those cables. Worst of all, he can feel more blood than he’s ever seen in his life as it poured out of Thor and into his hands no matter how hard he pushed. He remembers vividly the look in Thor’s eyes when the bullet struck, and the way his life visibly faded from him as he lay there bleeding, choking on his own blood amidst the war still taking place around them.

All of it is undampened by time, nor by the fact that everyone survived.

_ What’s wrong with me... _ Steve pushes his palms into his eyes and moans softly. He’s so tired, but he can’t sleep. He’s so broken, but he can’t put himself back together. He doesn’t even know how to explain how he feels, because it’s not rational. Steve is as safe here as he can be.

Someone knocks on the door, and he jumps, pulling his palms away and freezing in fear. “Steve...? Are you in there?” The handle turns.

Hurriedly, Steve squeezes himself tighter into the corner, his long legs easily hiding his face when he bends down to shield it. Maybe if he burrows himself deeper, he can fold himself into another dimension, another plane of reality where matter no longer exists, and he can simply dissipate into the universe as a cloud of purposeless energy.

A hand rests on his shoulder, and he jumps again, but the hand is large and warm. It lifts off only to wrap around his shoulders and pull him away from the cold tub and into a warm body.

Thor says nothing, but he hums a tune in his deep baritone, the notes reverberating through him and into Steve, who can do nothing but huddle closer, still trapped in his tight ball like a paralyzed armadillo. Thor hangs onto him and rubs, squeezing now and then to reaffirm his grip, and Steve’s grip on reality. As he starts to unfold, his muscles loosening to Thor’s guidance, Thor presses kisses into his face as it lifts high enough. No-one has lips like Thor’s, nor does anyone use their lips the way Thor does.

“Breathe,” Thor murmurs into his ear. When Steve still struggles even when he puts the effort in, Thor pushes a strong hand into his chest, and the pressure helps. A foot hooks around Steve’s ankle and casually pulls it farther down, leaving room for Thor to lean in closer and push a little harder. “Like this,” he says. “With me, Steve.”

With a pace to match, and the constant pressure, it helps. Steve follows along, peeling his eyes open. Thor is blocking out the bathroom light, staring right at him patiently, ready to welcome him back.

Steve doesn’t know how long they sit on the bathroom floor like that, but when he feels like he’s back in his own body, he feels too weak to get off the floor, and he’s still trembling. Thor sits and draws him into a strong embrace, kissing his forehead before resting his ear on top of Steve’s head. 

“Perhaps a bath,” Thor keeps his voice at that soothing murmur. “Remember? We agreed that I would return the favor.”

Steve just doesn’t want Thor to go. His fingers reach out as Thor starts to move away, but he’s too slow and uncoordinated.

“I will only be a moment,” Thor sees the motion and the look in Steve’s eyes, soothing him with a touch to the knee before going back to plugging the tub. He turns on the water and adds soap, getting up to take off the pants he must have thrown on when he got out of bed. Then Thor gets to his knee and pulls off Steve’s tear-smeared glasses, running them under the sink and drying them clean on a hand-towel. He folds the arms and leaves them on the countertop, going to the cupboard to pull out some cloths.

Steve sits sprawled on the floor and watches Thor move. The scar in his back moves with the muscle beneath, and the nearby tattoos. Maybe Steve should get a tattoo of his own, now that he has a few scars to pair with them... The thought entertains him, as well as the motion of Thor’s body, long enough to remain chained to reality while Thor gathers a few things.

While the bath fills, Thor helps him off the floor, wrapping an arm around his neck. They’ve done this so many times the other way around that it seems odd to do it this way for once, and Steve nearly goes to prop himself under Thor’s arm simply from habit. Thor supports Steve’s  weak and shaking legs, sitting him on the toilet and kneeling beside him while the bath fills, rubbing up and down Steve’s shin to provide that anchor. When the bath fills, Thor wordlessly helps him up again and guides him to the tub.

Steve doesn’t have time to gather the strength to resist being in Thor’s care like this, but his passing thoughts of protest are quickly dissolved when they settle into the water together, and his back is flush against Thor’s chest. This tub isn’t as large as Loki’s, but they both manage to squeeze into it. Thor wraps his arm around Steve and strokes up and down his chest, washing with his hand. He dips both into the water and starts to clean the tears off Steve’s face, drawing around his eyes and making sure not to get any soap in them. Steve shuts his eyes all the same, lulled by the roughness of Thor’s calloused fingers drawing over his skin with just the right amount of pressure. Thor rubs his thumbs into Steve’s cheeks and presses his fingers across Steve’s forehead, then around his ears to the sides of his skull.

It feels good, that goes without saying. Thor has big hands and an attentive touch, cleaning him with slow swipes of the cloth, or with his bare hands. It feels good in the moment to be taken care of. He hasn’t been taken care of in a long time, and never by Thor. Not in this way, at least. It’s almost enough to compel him to suggest they forget the bath altogether and go back to bed.

Steve feels a little better when Thor decides they should get out. He still hasn’t recovered though, leaning into Thor’s support as he’s helped out of the tub. Thor wraps him in a towel and dries him, giving him a pair of flannel pants and steadying him while he puts them on. Thor dries and puts his own pants back on, sliding Steve’s glasses onto his face and guiding him out of the bathroom.

Thor sits him on the sofa to bask in the morning sun and wraps a blanket around his naked shoulders, taking his head in both hands and kissing his forehead. “I’ll only be a moment,” he promises softly. “Stay here.”

Steve can do that. He grabs the blanket tightly and cocoons himself in it, despite the warmth of the house and the sun on him, comforted by it. The waves continue to lap as they always do, curling over and splashing up the sand before crawling back down to join the water. A few birds hop along the beach and glide over the water, searching for food. A cloud bubbles and twists slowly into a new shape as it drifts lazily across the sky.

Thor is back with food and drinks, uncurling Steve’s fingers from the blanket and pressing a mug of coffee into his hand instead, holding there until he’s sure that Steve isn’t going to drop it. Steve grips it with the other hand and raises it to his lips, sipping at the hot beverage cooled with cream. Thor sits beside him and rubs between his shoulder blades.

“I’m sorry,” Steve whispers, eyes locked on the horizon as more tears gather.

“For what?” Thor asks calmly, reaching out to take the mug when he notices Steve is shaking again, threatening his grip.

“F-for... this,” Steve tries.

Thor’s arm wraps tightly around him again, the other rubbing Steve’s knee. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” he says, unshakeable in resolve, but gentle in delivery.

“You were happy,” Steve licks tears off his lips. “Y-you were... W-we had everything... I... I d-don’t know what’s wrong... wrong with m-me.”

“Nothing is wrong with you.”

“Then what the f-fuck is happening?” Steve growls, but it sounds scratchy through his tear-strained throat.

Thor eases him with a squeeze and more determinate rubs. “Whatever you think of yourself, I can assure you it is not the case. I had a feeling this would come... It was only a matter of time.” When Steve turns to give him an inquisitive look, Thor returns it with a rueful smile. “Had I known the words I might have helped... As it is, I am still at a loss,” he admits. “However, I trust what I know is true, and therefore I trust that you can get through what ails you. We can, together. There is nothing  _ wrong _ with you.”

“Then what?” Steve begs.

“The events which you witnessed bother you deeply,” Thor reasons easily. “They have scarred you, and the wound is new. But it will heal. It will leave its mark, but you  _ will _ be alright, if you fight as I know you can, as I know you  _ will _ .” 

“Still somethin’ wrong with me though...” Steve mutters, wiping at his eyes with the blanket furiously. God, he can’t stop the shaking... It’s all gone wrong. This was supposed to be paradise-

“In a sense,” Those finally agrees. “As there are things wrong with people who are injured. But there is nothing wrong with  _ you, _ with who you are as a person. I fear that’s what you were implying...”

Maybe. Steve sniffs. “What happened...?” he asks weakly.

“You had a panic attack,” Thor explains. “And a severe one.”

“Oh.”

Thor weaves the hug tighter, more protective. “Have they been frequent?”

Steve shakes his head; maybe he’s had one or two since the mission, but certainly not like this. He managed to keep himself from completely crumbling apart for at least a little while. He sniffs and wipes frustratedly at his eyes leaking new tears. “Was supposed to be taking care of you...” he mutters.

“No reason why we can’t take care of each other at the same time,” Thor chuckles lightly. “You’ve been taking good care of me for weeks without rest. Maybe it’s time you took a break... Then you can return to taking care of me when you feel better.”

That does sound tempting, though Steve feels simultaneously guilty for wanting it since Thor is still recovering, while also adverse to the idea since he doesn’t want to lose that small fraction of control he had. He doesn’t want to be useless and broken and  _ needing _ to be taken care of – he wants freedom, and security in knowing that he can make his own choices. When Thor was still in bad shape, Steve could do things for him, take charge, be the one who led, and it felt good. Not just to help someone he cared about, but to have the reins where he felt anything could go wrong at any moment.

As usual, Steve can’t find the words to explain how he feels, but he  _ can _ enjoy their embrace, and the safety it provides.

\--

Steve has never spent so many lazy days in a row, and even in Loki’s mansion, relaxation never held the meaning that it does here. When he feels better, and his coffee and breakfast are finished, Thor insists they go outside to sunbathe. He doesn’t press for information, his sole focus on helping Steve feel better.

The fresh ocean air definitely helps, along with the lapping of the waves that’s only louder now that he’s beyond the walls of the house. Thor spreads out two towels and puts up a large umbrella, making sure both of them are in the shade. He lies down with a grunt and beckons Steve to him, and Steve obliges, lying against Thor’s side in the shade and pillowing his head on Thor’s shoulder. The heat is complemented by a warm breeze, and Steve feels comfortable and safe enough that his eyes start to close. He’s so tired, and it never ends. There is no escape, no reprieve, no... no. .....

Steve falls asleep, vaguely aware of his environment filling his head with white noise.

When he wakes up, he’s still on the towel, and the sun has moved. But  so has the umbrella, still shading the two of them. Thor hasn’t left, smiling over with soft eyes as Steve blinks awake. “Lunch time,” he says, brushing back Steve’s bangs and stroking down the side of his face to clasp his neck fondly. “Shall we eat? You look very comfortable... Perhaps I should leave you to enjoy the sunshine and bring you something.”

Steve enjoys the touch too much to answer right away, and when he does manage to find some words, he remembers that he’s supposed to be taking care of Thor. In the end, desire wins out. “Okay,” he replies quietly. “Thanks.”

“I won’t be long,” Thor pats his neck and kisses him, standing up and walking up the sand and the grass to the house.

Steve props himself up on one arm to watch him go, feeling like he should run and help, but unable to make his body move any further. Thor is still limping, but he’s otherwise moving smoothly and surely, with capable lungs. He’s fine. He doesn’t need any help. Steve sighs and slumps on the towel, looking back out at the water. The nap helped, but it’s not enough to mend his exhaustion. He feels like he’s so tired that he could drop straight down and sleep on the order of days without waking, but his body won’t let him; either he wakes up before he’s fully rested, or his sleep is plagued with nightmares that undo any good the sleep would have done. It’s maddening, like he’s out of breath but never able to fully catch it.

They eat in the sun, Thor keeping him hydrated so he doesn’t dry out. Steve manages another nap, but mostly they just lie there in silence, listening to their surroundings. There is nothing to say, which should be peaceful, but it winds the pressure tighter and tighter inside Steve, knowing that eventually he’s going to have to say  _ something... _

They eat dinner outside too, and Thor brings out a beer each. The cold drink is refreshing, and Steve nurses it for far longer than he usually would. As the sun begins to set, they roll up the towels, fold up the umbrella, gather their dishes, and go back inside. The day has melted away, and Steve can’t help but feel guilty for that, too, despite the whole purpose of their being here to relax. 

Thor offers they sleep on the couch where they can watch the ocean out the window, but Steve shakes his head, needing the bed where they can be woven together better. Adhering to routine, they snuggle together, Thor sleeping on his left side with his right draped around Steve’s waist, and their legs entwined. This is safe, safe enough that he can close his eyes and at least attempt to sleep.

“Steve?” Thor speaks quietly in the darkness before Steve has the chance to drift off. “Wake me if you can’t sleep, alright? Or if you have a bad dream?”

Steve can’t make any promises, but he nods anyway. And when the nightmare wakes him, he can’t bring himself to do anything but lie there shaking, Thor’s arms still wrapped around him, and his partner breathing deeply into the back of his neck. It should be enough, but it isn’t.

\--

“I thought we could go for a swim today,” Thor suggests that morning over breakfast. “The doctor  recommended it.”

Swimming is a great way to build strength without submitting weakened limbs to impact. Thor needs to stretch and work his joints to help them recover, and to protect them from future injury. It’ll be a good breathing exercise, too, which he’s still supposed to be doing.

Steve nods eagerly in support, fancying a swim himself. Maybe it will make him feel better, if he moves around.

They clean up while their food settles, then put on some swimming shorts and take their towels and umbrella back down to the sand. Thor finds some sunscreen and lathers it over Steve’s pale skin, then allows the same to be done for him. Both of them eagerly leap into the waves and submerse themselves in the water. It’s refreshing.

It’s evident that Thor is a good swimmer, even though he’s not able to move as he normally would. He can’t do a proper front-stroke, but he can turn on his back and kick while he paddles gently. The range of motion and strength of his shoulder is still quite limited, but the water gives him something to work against.

With renewed energy, Steve plunges under the surface and swims parallel to the shore as far as he can in one breath, popping back up with a gasp of air when he can no longer tolerate the burn. He turns back, and Thor is standing in the water, the waves lapping at his hips, watching Steve with admiration. Steve smiles and dives back under, closing the distance between them and shooting out right in front of Thor. He grabs Thor by the waist and throws them both into the water with a splash. Thor yelps in surprise and flails as he goes down, but he comes back up laughing, his hair plastered to his head.

Steve laughs too, reaching up to ruffle Thor’s hair. He feels truly happy and unburdened as he leaps backward to avoid grabbing hands, cackling as he escapes his partner’s attempts to catch him. On another day, he knows Thor would beat him in any physical contest, but right now Steve has the advantage, and he’ll enjoy it while he has it.

They frolic for a little while, which is hardly the exercise Thor’s doctor likely hoped for, but neither of them  cares for orders right now. They’re having too much of a good time, able to throw themselves around without fear, here where the water will catch them.

Finally, Thor gets his hands more firmly on Steve, taking them both down with a splash in the shallow water. They roll and struggle with each other playfully in the sand, spitting out salt water and trying to gain the upper hand without really wanting it. Steve gets away, drawing back his leg before Thor can grab it and scrambling to his feet. It’s harder to move while laughing and panting, but Thor is slowed by his lingering injuries. Before they know it, they’re both on their feet, running along the sand.

Their feet splash in the water where the waves just reach, Thor still laughing and calling his name cheerfully. Steve isn’t laughing anymore.

The laugh dies in his chest after only a couple of foot-falls, and the loose happiness drops right out of him, leaving behind a void that quickly fills with panic. His legs work harder, and soon it’s not a playful game anymore. Not to him. Not to his brain that still can’t forget what happened, and all the people who have chased him to kill.

Suddenly, he’s running for his life, fighting the sand that slows him. He’s already straining, breathless and hurting but pushing forward with the help of adrenaline. He can’t get caught; his life depends on it.

“Steve!” Thor’s calls change in nature as they get farther apart; Steve is putting distance between them. Good. He’s winning. He has to get to safety. “ _ Steve! _ " Thor shouts. “Steve, wait!”

Thor sounds like he’s struggling, but Steve barely hears it, only able to act on the terror in his veins. He can’t stop for anything, not even as his legs start to give out from the strain, and he loses his footing, falling in a flurry of sand but scrambling to keep moving. Even if he has to drag himself, he’ll keep moving.

His pursuer is catching up, calling out to him. Steve whimpers and claws himself to his feet, only to fall straight down again as his legs tangle together in a breathless panic. None of his limbs are working right. Steve cries out in fear as his pursuer catches up, stumbling beside him and touching him. He tries to roll away to safety, but hands flip him onto his back and grab him by the wrists, stopping him from lashing out wildly.

“Steve!” Thor pants, red from effort and his eyes wild with concern. “Steve, what the hell...” He hangs there speechless.

Steve stares back up at him, squirming a little and whimpering through his own panting. All either of them can do is stare at each other while they both try to breathe and rationalize what just happened. 

Thor moves first, gathering Steve in his arms. “Oh god...” he says. “I’m sorry... I’m so sorry, Steve, I didn’t... I didn’t mean to...”

Steve can’t say a word, shivering despite the hot sun beating down on them, helpless in Thor’s grip. The happy moment is gone.

“I’m so sorry,” Thor says again, rubbing his hand up and down Steve’s back in an attempt to comfort him. “It’s alright, it’s just me. Just breathe.”

It’s hard. Steve falls completely limp, trembling as he battles the sensations of terror and his own need for oxygen. When current efforts prove ineffective, Thor changes position so he can lay Steve against his chest and apply the same pressure that eased Steve out of his panic attack the last time. They sit in the sand, water reaching they ankles as they try to recover.

Finally, Steve no longer feels like he’s suffocating, but again he has no concept of how much time has passed, only that Thor hasn’t let go or let up the pressure.

“I’m so sorry.” Again, it’s down to Thor to break the silence, cradling Steve in his arms and rubbing soft circles over Steve’s hammering heart. “Steve... this cannot go on.”

No, it can’t. Steve swallows, but words won’t come out, even though he lets his mouth hang open. Thor squeezes his eyes shut and kisses him, and it’s his tremor that shocks a little awareness back into Steve. He shifts in Thor’s arms to hang on more purposefully with his own strength, though he feels as if he has little to give.

“We should go inside,” Thor pulls away, blinking away a couple of tears. “I’ll make you some coffee.”

That sounds good. Steve nods mutely and they stand up together, helping each other. Both of them are spent, but Steve finds himself leaning a little farther into Thor than he means to as they walk back toward the house. It seems farther than it is at their pace. They didn’t run as far as it felt like they did.

Inside, Thor wraps him in a towel first, then the blanket, letting him down on the sofa. Steve practically collapses, his legs  weak and his strength depleted. When Thor moves away to prepare the drinks, he falls heavily into the arm of the sofa and stares blankly out at the ocean. He was supposed to be free out there... This was supposed to be a place of peace, but he’s ruined their moment.

“Steve... here.” Thor appears in front of him with a mug, giving it over and sitting close beside him.

Steve takes the mug and sips at his coffee, the sense of deja-vu weighing on him. Tears start to gather again, but he fights them back. He’s cried enough.

“Ideally, I’d have let you come to me when you were ready...” Thor starts, his tone apologetic and hesitant. “But I cannot allow this to go on. I’ve said that before, too, but really... If you will not talk to me, then I’ll call someone. There is a doctor in town I would trust with my life. He will listen. Your family will, and so will Loki, if you want him. He is a good listener...”

Steve swallows and rests his lips back around the rim of the mug. So many options, yet he doesn’t think that’s the problem. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Thor... He swallows again, pausing for a moment before drinking another mouthful to buy himself time to find words. Something, anything. They come in larger numbers than he expected, quiet but honest. “I can’t sleep...” he croaks, and Thor leans in to listen, his hands reaching out to form a warm and safe embrace. Steve licks his lips and stares determinately out at the horizon. “I’m scared. It was like... like I was back there. They were coming for me. I couldn’t...”

The vision stole him from something good, so unfairly. He swallows some more coffee to clear the growing tightness in his throat.

“I dream about being back there, in that room...” Steve whispers. “And they do these horrible things to me...”

“What did they do to you in there?” Thor asks. “For real?”

“Not much,” Steve whispers. “They didn’t get the chance. You saved me before they could. I don’t know what they’d have done if-”

“Steve,” Thor stops him. “What did they do to you?”

Steve rubs his nail on the mug, staring into his coffee. “He had this... charged baton. He didn’t say much... didn’t threaten like the other guys. He just... touched me with it, really... Not much. Could have been worse.” Those men barely did a thing to him. What’s he complaining about? They did worse to Thor, and Thor was already shot.

“Sounds like it hurt. Looked like it, too,” Thor says sympathetically. He’s got this way about him, of showing his care without being pitying, and that helps ease Steve’s fear. He’s lived a life of being the smallest, weakest person, looked down upon for his short-comings, and he doesn’t want to experience that again. Thor doesn’t look down on him in the slightest. “It doesn’t have to be life-threatening to be traumatizing,” he says wisely. “Those men are good at their job. They would have known how to scare you. It’s alright to be scared, even when everything is finished.”

“You make it sound easy,” Steve huffs joylessly, sipping his coffee again. “They hardly touched me. Shouldn’t be bothering me this much...”

“What should or should not be isn’t worth thinking about,” Thor reasons. “You should never have ended up in that situation to begin with, but we’re here now. Those men threatened to cause you harm, and whether by words or actions or simply a look, that is not something to be ashamed to be afraid of.”

“But it’s over,” Steve argues. “You got me out. It’s...”

“Not stupid,” Thor finishes. “Nor is it weak. We got each other out, and you fought as hard as you could despite the odds, which anyone would agree is brave.”

Maybe. But he still feels like he’s back in that room, which makes no  _ sense; _ if he were back there, then so would Thor, instead of here beside him, alive and in relatively good health. Steve wishes the answers would pop out of the ocean and walk right into his head. “What if they come back?” he asks.

“I doubt they will, but even if they did, they would struggle to find us here,” Thor replies surely. “We have many people out there who would protect us before it came to that, though. And if I was worried, I would simply call my brother, or Fury, and they would come to guard us, or take us somewhere safer. And I have weapons of my own here. Rest assured, Steve, they will not find us.”

It should be enough, but it isn’t, just like everything else. Shamefully, Steve stares into his mug again. “Sorry...” he murmurs, partially to himself. He’s the one making it difficult for himself. Somewhere in there, his own head is throwing everything out of proportion, weaving these fears into monsters.

“You need not be,” Thor replies. “You are fighting this, Steve. These fears will not own you, nor will they seem so daunting forever. I promise, just as I promise to do what I can. Just... keep fighting it.”

Fighting is tiring, but then again, what else is there? Steve is a fighter, always has been. He sighs and flops against Thor’s side, wishing it would all just go away. “Thanks,” he says quietly.

“You’re welcome,” Thor gathers him in his arms and kisses his head. “Perhaps you’ve grown tired of me saying it, but you do truly amaze me. I admire your tenacity.”

Steve smiles a little, even though he doesn’t feel like he has much to be proud of in this low moment. “You’re pretty tenacious yourself.”

“One of my best qualities,” Thor agrees, rubbing with his thumb.

“Don’t cut yourself short.”

“Fine. And a good body.”

“Just good?”

“Ordinarily I would say excellent, but I think I should give it a few months of exercise before I can say that,” Thor chuckles.

“I think you look pretty excellent anyway,” Steve nestles closer.

“You’ve taken good care of me,” Thor agrees. “I’m very lucky.”

Steve disagrees; he’s the lucky one. He’s lucky Thor is so tough, or they would both be dead. He’s lucky Thor had the heart to follow him with those agents to the overtaken SHIELD base, and then had the strength to break free and rescue Steve from imminent torture. He’s lucky Thor could still move even by the end of the mission, while Steve needed the cover to open the  parkade . He’s lucky Thor is so kind and patient and thoughtful, not just nice to look at.

Despite the lingering problem, Steve does feel a tiny bit better. Not enough to claim he’s okay, but enough to give him hope that he can be.

They sit inside to enjoy the rest of the day, and Steve feels steady enough to shower on his own while Thor makes dinner. It’s nothing fancy, but Thor makes the effort to set out a picnic on the living-room floor so they can watch the sunset under the pretense of a date. A stay-at-home date. Steve likes it though, the touch of romance. He’s even a little aroused, and when the stars finally blink out of the darkness and Thor gets up to put the dishes away, Steve’s desire flares into a burning need. 

He  _ needs _ Thor in bed,  _ right now _ . Steve has a hard time controlling himself, let alone expressing what he wants as he guides Thor away from the dishes and toward the bedroom, already starting on his clothes. Thor falls into place with ease, quickly rising to meet Steve’s passion with his own hot kisses. They’re in each other’s mouths, struggling with the last articles of clothing as their hands roam in every direction and their feet carry them toward the bed. Steve spins Thor around and pushes him onto the sheets, helping them both push up the covers until they’re properly sprawled over them. He crawls on top of his partner, trembling with the need to take charge.

When everything is falling apart, this is the one thing he knows he can control. It’s bad. He knows it is. He knows he’ll go too fast, and that Thor doesn’t want that, but he can’t stop himself now that he’s here, and Thor is welcoming of his advances. He’s already reaching down to stroke Thor into readiness, panting.

But Thor stops him, grabbing his wrist before he can get to work and looking him dead in the eyes. “No,” he says firmly. “No, Steve.”

“Why not?” Steve rasps. “I thought you...”

“I do,” Thor replies. “God, I do, Steve, but not like this. I don’t want it to be like this.”

“Please,” Steve begs, tugging. “Please, I want to give this to you-”

“No,” Thor calmly restates, holding on. “I know that you care for me, and it is by my care for you that I ask you not to do this tonight.”

It’s all slipping away. Steve shakes his head, feeling his chest tighten as the chance slips away. “Please,” he begs quietly. “Please, Thor...”

“No.”

“Please...” he  shuts his eyes so the tears won’t come out, ashamed that they’re trying to in the first place. “Please.... it’s all I have. It’s the only thing... the only time I feel... feel like I can...”

“Can what?” Thor asks, slowly turning onto his side and pushing Steve onto his as he does. “Can what, Steve?” he asks, unjudging.

“You...” Steve hitches his next breath as the tears try to come out. “I can make you feel good. I know I can.”

“ So do I,” Thor gently agrees. “The things you do to me are unbelievable, Steve. But we cannot continue like this, so rushed. I want it to be enjoyable for both of us.”

“I  _ am _ enjoying it,” Steve pleads. “Thor please, it’s the only thing that I can  _ control...” _ The moment the word slips out, he feels his body burn with shame and fear, afraid to open his eyes lest he sees how Thor responds.

But no harsh words come, no rejections or offended questions. Just a kiss. Thor is rolling them gently until they’re on the other side of the bed, and Steve is on the bottom. Thor bends down to deliver a slow and tender kiss. “You should have told me,” he says between intervals as he works Steve’s lip.

“Please...” Steve moans, but Thor cuts off the thought with another kiss.

“Let go,” Thor coaxes, calmly brushing Steve’s grabbing hand away and delivering stronger kiss. “Steve, let go.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve whimpers. “God, I’m sorry... Fuck, I didn’t mean...”

“I know,” Thor assures, lips brushing Steve’s ear. “I know you. I know you don’t mean harm by it. But you have to let go. The burden is not yours alone to carry. I am here. Trust me. Let go.”

It’s hard. He doesn’t want to give this up, even though his body is aching for Thor to just fuck him into the bed until he forgets how to speak English.

“Let go,” Thor whispers into his ear again, raspier and more tempting, his hands starting to slide around Steve’s body now that they don’t have to fend off Steve’s advances. Without realizing, Steve is giving in. He just has to allow his mind to accept it. And he wants it.

Steve opens his eyes and looks up at Thor’s stare that awaits permission.

“I have yet to explore you,” Thor licks his lips. “I have yet to learn what sounds you make, or what causes them. I have yet to care for you as I have wanted to. If you wish it.”

Steve  _ does _ wish it. With all his heart.

“Let go,” Thor tempts again. “There is nothing to fear. Nothing to control. I will catch you. Let go.”

It always sounds so simple when Thor says it. Perhaps if just gives up the need to control something... It’s not fair on Thor, either, and he’ll give up for that without the need to convince himself of anything else. “Okay,” he whispers. “Yes.”

“Are you certain?” Thor checks patiently.

“Fuck, yes,” Steve shivers, making the conscious effort to go totally limp in preparation to receive what Thor has in store for him. He lets go of the reins. “God, Thor. Fuck me.”

That’s all Thor needs. He’s reaching over to the nightstand and pulling out a bottle of lube, wasting no time in popping off the lid generously slathering his hands with it. “How long has it been since you last received?” he asks, drawing one slick finger down the center of Steve’s body toward the prize.

Shivering, Steve shrugs weakly. “Months?” It might be tight. “Just-”

“’Just’ nothing,” Thor takes his sweet time dragging that finger all the way down, moving right around Steve’s cock to grab his legs instead. Thor draws them lazily around his waist, adjusting his position without moving in. “Easy, Steve. The night is young. I really  _ will  _ tie  _ you _ to the bed if you cannot be patient.”

Patient? Steve scoffs. “Torture,” he corrects, his grabbing hands already on their way over, desperate to be occupied and to complete a task.

“A lesson,” Thor corrects back. “And I will teach it to you in any way necessary to ensure that you learn it.” He takes Steve by the wrists and pins his hands on the pillows, leaning over so their hips are pressed together. Thor bends down for a slow kiss. “I will teach you how to receive well,” he says deeply.

Steve’s taken before. Many times. He tries to protest that he knows what he’s doing, that this isn’t his first rodeo, but again he’s not permitted the chance. That’s fine. He would rather submit to a kiss than say whatever nonsense is going to come out of his mouth. His mouth can be used for better things.

Thor rubs wide circles around Steve’s nipples, drawing them smaller and smaller until he’s teasing the sensitive skin with his slick fingers. Steve sucks in a breath with a little yelp as the touch grows faster and stronger. A smile curls Thor’s lips. “And I will learn from you just as attentively,” he promises. “I will learn your deepest secrets.”

That sounds nice. Steve decides not to give any hints about where his favorite and most sensitive places are, other than the obvious ones. He quite looks forward to Thor discovering them on his own, and maybe stumbling on some new ones on the way. Sometimes it’s not so much where he’s sensitive, but more what the other person is able to do with the landscape.

Already, Thor is showing skill, which only makes Steve long to just be filled even harder. “What if I don’t want to do things your way?” he pants. “What if I don’t do what you tell me?”

“As I said,” Thor’s eyebrow leaps and he licks his lips as he slides his hands down Steve’s torso and around his waist. “I will tie you to the bed if I must.”

Steve’s not going to admit that he might like that. He won’t have to say it anyway, because he can see plainly that if he tests, Thor will enact on that promise. Though Steve knows he’ll be giving up more of his power, he snatches Thor’s head and weaves his fingers through his partner’s hair, tugging him down for a kiss. Thor does lower for it, but he pulls Steve’s hands away to take charge again.

“We can play this, if you like,” Thor smiles slyly. They’re on the same wavelength now. Steve bites his lip and stares daringly into Thor’s eyes, giving his wrists a cheeky tug.

Thor is not a man of empty promises; he moves off the bed without faltering and picks their shirts off the floor, straddling Steve’s hips again. They’re really doing this. It started as a joke, but Thor is really tying his wrists to the headboard, loose enough that he could wriggle free if he really tried, but tight enough that if he pulls the knot won’t come loose. Steve tests, straining his muscles but pleased to find it won’t be easy to break free, even though he is a little scared to give up.

Not scared to be tied, though. Not when it’s Thor over him, peering over to make sure this is still alright, that this isn’t distressing. Steve knows this would be over in a moment if he were truly uncomfortable.

“I suppose we should have a safe word,” Thor says, hovering over Steve with want in his eyes, but ever patient as he makes sure everything is right. “I have never done... this.”

“Me neither,” Steve admits. “Uh...” He tries to think of a word, something he’s not going to be screaming out when Thor gets on with this. Something easy to say and remember. All he can think of is the ocean, and the way he’s spread out. “Starfish?” Too long...? Steve can’t really see himself needing it anyway.

“As you wish,” Thor agrees.

Now that all the T’s are crossed and the I's dotted, they can get to work. More specifically,  _ Thor _ can get to work, while Steve has no choice but to surrender. Control is out of his hands, and he’s overwhelmingly more excited than scared.

Thor slithers down, re-slicking his hands and wrapping them around Steve’s ankles. He pushes his hands up and around, under Steve’s knees and inside his thighs, searching with small rubs of his fingers for those sensitive spots. He finds what he wants above the knees, along the soft, white skin of Steve’s inner thighs. And Thor plays Steve like an instrument, applying a little pressure with his nails to make Steve quiver and cry out with pleasure. Pleased, Thor changes the pattern of his touches and finds the best spot before going in with his mouth. He sucks with his lips and nips with his teeth, and Steve makes a long, low “ _ Ohhhhh _ ,” from the depths of his chest. From this angle, it looks like Thor is going down toward his dick, and he’s almost disappointed when Thor’s mouth connects with his thigh instead, but the sensation makes his toes curl and his mind forget whatever thought it was trying to make. Thor will get there in his own time.

Reduced as they may be, Thor’s muscles still  slide under his skin, the light catching on this scar and that as he moves around Steve’s body. It’s a glorious sight. All the more wonderous that Thor is tending him diligently, the master but also the giver. And Thor is generous.

Thor is building up, but he shows interest in all of Steve’s body first, exploring it in sections, keeping it interesting and enjoyable without rushing. Even Steve is lulled by it, his want for Thor to just plunge right into him overcome by the sheer pleasure of what’s happening to his body. The want hasn’t gone away, but it’s changed from a lusting need into a growing excitement that’s well worth the wait.

Thor makes him feel perfect, wipes his doubts away with nibbles and touches, and makes him feel worthy of love. Worthy of time and effort. And clearly, Thor is enjoying this too.

Lazily, Thor’s index draws down Steve’s torso again, joined by other to trace around Steve’s hips and down, down and around his cock, following the crease of his thighs. Without warning, one finger slides right in, and Steve cries out in surprise. Thor is looking up at him to make sure it’s alright, that the cry is purely of pleasure, which it is. Oh god, it is. Steve shifts his hips and clenches his ass around Thor, only to have Thor’s other hand rest on his belly to push him down and loosen him with a brief roll of his finger. The moment Steve relaxes, another finger slides in, teasing the opening a little wider.

Steve whines and moans a little, still fighting that urge to yell for Thor to just slam it in, but he forces himself to wait, pulling on his wrists to relieve his frustration and remind himself that Thor has the wheel. 

As promised, Thor delivers, but when  _ he _ decides it’s  time. He’s loosened the opening, lubricated them both, and he gathers Steve’s hips into his lap to tease the entrance. Steve bites his lip, but quickly  lets go so he can open his mouth wide and shudder in pleasure as Thor starts to gradually slide inside him. The sound mounts as Thor pushes deeper, and deeper, until one final perfectly-timed thrust yanks out a shaky shout. Thor moans quietly too, the arm looped under Steve’s waist clenching a handful of  ass while the other props him up so the angle is comfortable.

They haven’t said much, but Thor speaks now, raspier even than when they started. “You have done well,” he praises. “You’re so tight...” He draws back and thrusts in again, like a perfectly-timed piston. Steve shrieks, and Thor grins, thrusting once more to demand the sound again.

Thor is big, and it’s a good thing he took his time, because Steve can  _ really _ feel it. He starts to rock his hips to stir the friction, but Thor is already taking care of it, never still for long, nor do his hands rest. He hooks his arms under Steve’s knees and lifts his legs so he can lean forward a little more. Steve wraps his legs around Thor’s ribs, and Thor strokes inside his thighs again, multiplying the pleasure. With an animal moan, Steve throws his head back, only to lift it again so he can watch exactly how Thor is tending him.

They move together with growing intensity until Steve climaxes first under the onslaught Thor reins on him, his erection smattering them both. It’s been a long time since he’s orgasmed, and definitely not like this. None of his partners have ever worked him like Thor has. Thor  _ orchestrated _ him.

Thor comes next, drawing out and flopping wearily on top of Steve to enjoy their explosion of pleasure together. He lands sloppy, breathless kisses up Steve’s neck and under his chin, tickling the soft skin with his beard. It’s the cherry on top of a magnificent orgasm.

There is no doubt in Steve’s mind that this is his body, that he really is  _ him _ – not when Thor has drawn him a map so detailed that he could never get lost. And he’s never, ever been bottomed quite like this. There are no doubts on this either, that this was the best sex of his life.

And it’s not over, because Thor is up again, leaning over him for more purposeful kisses that Steve returns while allowing Thor to take the lead, still tingling all the way down to his toes.

“Perhaps I should untie you,” Thor suggests into his mouth. “I trust you won’t be so keen to rush things anymore...”

Steve shakes his head and smiles, a little bashful but honest. “ S’fine ,” he replies. More than fine. This is good. He’s comfortable, and it’s freeing to just... lie here, bound to the bed but released from his burdens. He doesn’t feel so scared or unsure, doesn’t feel like he’s crawling out of his skin or about to snap at the slightest memory of what damaged him. Thor will make him feel better, make all of that go away. It may not be permanent, but it’s doing him  _ some _ permanent good. Doing Thor some good, too; the other man looks looser and happier than before. Satisfied. That alone makes Steve feels warmer and happier too. If they’re both happy, then they’re on the right track.

“Then shall we continue?” Thor grins. “I have not yet finished with you.”

Steve raises his eyebrows, unable to imagine what else Thor could possibly have to explore or test, but already shivering with excitement. He nods. Oh yes. More.

It’s a good thing have no neighbors. By the end of it, when both of them are spent, Steve lies limp and allows himself to be untied and washed and cared for. He’s almost asleep before Thor gets into bed with him, basking in the full-body tingle that leaves him feeling like he’s floating. He keeps himself awake just long enough to feel Thor tucking his body around him. Thor adjusts with a soft grunt and wraps them both in the blankets, pressing one last kiss into the back of Steve’s neck with a murmured “ G’night .”

Steve can’t remember the last time he slept so well.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the feedback y'alls.

Steve wakes up to the sound of birds. He peels his eyes open and is surprised to find there’s a ray of sun in his eyes. Squinting, he rolls over with a groan and settles again with a deep sigh. He rubs his eyes to clear them and stares blearily at his and Thor’s clothes still on the floor where they were left last night.

Right, last night... Steve smiles to himself and shuts his eyes so he can imagine it again. It almost feels like he’s still tingling.

Someone is moving around in the kitchen; the sound of plates being laid out and the smell of cooking butter rouses him from his daydream. Steve rubs his eyes again and takes a more deliberate stock of his environment, rolling back over to face the window and the empty side of the bed. It dawns on him that for the first time in weeks, both Thor and the sun are up before he is.

Thor appears in the doorway, dressed in a pair of flannel pants, a tray in his arms. He beams at Steve and carries it over. “You’re up.”

“Yeah,” Steve smiles, sitting up and raking back his hair so he can do inventory on the tray. “Wow... You’re spoiling me.”

Thor hands him the tray so he can get back into bed, nudging up close and grabbing a fork. “Yup,” he agrees cheerfully, stabbing a pancake. “Though you may not think so once you start eating...”

Steve cocks his head at the stack of pancakes. They’re a little burnt, but the inside is perfect when he cuts them open. They taste good, too. “I don’t know about that...” he smiles around a mouthful. “These are good. You ever made pancakes before?”

“No,” Thor replies, cutting off his own piece from the massive stack and rolling it around in jam. “Perhaps we should buy some syrup.”

“Jam is good,” Steve shrugs. “But sure. I guess we need to go into town soon anyway.” He suspects they’d have gone sooner, if he had felt better the last couple of days, since Thor doesn’t trust his arm enough to drive, and wouldn’t want to leave Steve on his own for that long anyway.

Today, he feels good, like he actually slept. Not perfect, but better. He feels more like himself.

Thor’s noticed, evidently, because of the way he smiles and admires Steve, but he says nothing on the matter and contents himself with chatting about pleasantries. The normality is a welcome relief. “We should make a grocery list,” Thor says, taking a sip of coffee.

“Probably,” Steve agrees, steadying the tray and cutting up the pancakes with the edge of his fork so Thor can eat them easier.

“And I have an appointment with a doctor in town,” Thor mentions. “A trusted friend. I wondered if you might take me.”

“Of course,” Steve agrees.

“Thank you.”

“Thanks for taking care of me,” Steve smiles softly. “It... really helped.” The battle is far from over, but at least it no longer feels like he’s being pummeled senseless.

“Of course,” Thor says, leaning down to press a tender kiss into Steve’s cheek bone. “It is my pleasure. You look better. Some sleep did you well.”

“I’m sorry about... what happened,” Steve looks at the plate as he nestles a bit deeper into Thor’s ribs. “I  shouldn’t’a done what I did...”

“It’s alright,” Thor reassures. “You were harming yourself more than me. And I would very much like to do that again, if you wish...”

“Oh god, yeah,” Steve blurts. “Fuck, that was the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Good,” Thor says proudly, sitting a little straighter. Steve smiles and blushes at how happy Thor looks by that, and by how warm it makes him feel. All of last night was... an experience, and an enlightening one. Maybe they can change it up, try some new things, do whatever they want, but most importantly they’ll take their time. There’s no need to cling to that thread of control, not when he has Thor to look out for him. Thor taught that lesson well, and Steve’s a fast learner.

They eat breakfast in a sunbeam, enjoying a late and peaceful start to the day. When the plates and cups are empty, they get dressed, and Steve helps Thor through his exercises. Even with Steve’s help, Thor can’t yet lift his arm high enough that his elbow and shoulder are in line. It’s getting better though, gradually, and Thor isn’t shying away from the work.

They clean up the kitchen together, sharing tasks between them without much need to verbally delegate; Steve takes care of anything that Thor’s injuries would prevent him from safely doing, drying and putting away stacks of dishes while Thor washes. Then they make a grocery list together, hop in the 4x4, and drive into town.

The weather is warm and breezy, perfect for rolling down the windows. They both appreciate the scenery as it rolls by. 

It’s nice to know money isn’t an issue. It takes a little getting used to not bothering with price labels, since they have Thor’s bank account to work with. Even if they didn’t, Loki would have made sure they had enough. It’s good to know Loki is still providing for the rest of Steve’s family, too. It’s not like they were poor, but indulgences were rare, and they worked hard for anything extra on top of the necessities. Now, nothing matters. If they want to buy a big bottle of some kind of fancy liquor Thor recommends, they can. It’s the type that goes well in coffees, hot chocolates, and deserts. As it turns out, Thor has a sweet tooth. Steve promises to make a chocolate cake with Irish cream, something the liquor will be perfect for.

The day unfolds peacefully. Steve still feels quiet and reserved, but definitely looser, like he’s safe to enjoy himself. He’s free to eat dinner, then make cake and eat that too without any unwelcome interruptions. Then he gets to sit on the couch with Thor, alcoholic hot-chocolates in-hand, to watch the sun set and the stars come out. With full stomachs, and slightly tipsy, they exchange a few sloppy kisses before going to bed.

Steve sleeps passably, but when he wakes up, he at least hasn’t beaten the sun, nor does he have to sit there panting while his senses slowly  return to reality. No, his nightmare has only left him slightly sweaty and a little perturbed, but it wasn’t as vivid as usual. Thor is still asleep beside him, eyelids flickering as he starts to wake up. Content, Steve sits up to watch him, and smiles when Thor looks up at him. What a pleasure it is to share a bed and a house and life with a man like this...

“How did you sleep?” Thor asks over breakfast, which they eat at the table this time.

Steve shrugs. “Okay. Better than usual.”

“Bad dreams?”

Steve nods, knowing he needs to be honest, but unable to get the words out just yet.

“About the same events?”

Steve nods again.

“I had an idea that may help,” Thor suggests. “If you are willing.”

Curiously, Steve peers back. “Sure.” It’s worth a try, right? And he trusts Thor.

“We should let our food settle first,” Thor replies, standing up and collecting their empty dishes. “I believe it will be beneficial for both of us.”

Oh? Steve follows to help clean up, wondering what this idea could possibly be.

First, they have to get through Thor’s exercises, which they do on the sofa. Thor lies on his back and lifts his arm as much as he can in any direction, then with Steve’s help to raise and twist it. His jaw tightens as he reaches the threshold. Steve helps him roll his arm and move through a few simple repetitions. When the routine is over, Thor slumps forward and allows Steve to massage his shoulder and down his back.

They do his leg next, Thor lying down once more so he can bend at the knee and fight the resistance Steve applies to his foot, gradually building the force. They do the other leg to keep things even.

Thor lies back to take a breather, digging his thumb into his shoulder while Steve rubs his leg.

“ Sure you still  wanna do whatever this idea of yours is?” Steve raises an eyebrow at Thor’s crinkled expression of pain.

“Of course,” Thor says, sitting up with a wince and rolling his shoulder. He sets his feet on the floor and stands. “Do you?”

“Yeah,” Steve stands up too.

“Then let’s go,” Thor leads them outside and down to the beach, shaking out his leg as he does so. He finds a patch of sand that suits him and draws a line with his foot, standing across from it in a strong stance. He points to the line, and Steve stands on it, waiting with interest for an explanation. Thor straightens his shoulders, his naked upper body well-lit by the late-morning sun. “I’m going to teach you how to fight,” he says. “If you wish.”

At first, Steve’s not sure what to think of  that. Not that he’s opposed to it, he’s just... “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” he stammers. “I mean, you... I just don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“I’ll be fine,” Thor assures confidently. “We will be careful. We’ll have to build up to the harder moves anyway, and the basic exercises will be good practice. But the question is whether or not you  _ want _ this.”

Yes, he  does. He’s been in lots of fight, their most recent altercation notwithstanding, but he’s never actually learned any techniques. Steve nods.

“Good,” Thor smiles happily. “You have courage, one of the most important characteristics of a good warrior. However, your punches need work.”

“We’ll see about that,” Steve quips back without really thinking, his smile only widening as the activity progresses.

“Take your stance,” Thor instructs, drawing up to his full towering height and squaring his shoulders, demonstrating deep breaths. Steve copies, breathing deeply and spreading his feet for balance. Thor walks around him, surveying his posture. He nudges and adjusts, sliding one of Steve’s feet back and turning him at the hips. He takes Steve’s raised arms by the wrists and lifts them slightly, pushing one back. “This arm can defend the lower body,” he explains, “while this one can guard your face and strike out. You should always be moving, always stay light on your feet and ready to avoid attacks where you can. You can turn to change your leading leg as frequently as necessary. Never favor one stance for too long.”

Light on his feet, right... Steve lifts off his heels a little, awaiting his next instruction.

Thor wanders around and stands in front of him, raising his palm and guiding Steve’s fist into it. “Aim here,” he instructs, spreading his own legs for balance. “Don’t hold back.”

A pad of some kind would be better, but Steve obeys and smacks a punch into Thor’s palm.

“You must draw back faster,” Thor says immediately. “Never linger after the blow is dealt. Keep moving, either back or forward. You protect yourself, or you strike again. But your aim is good. Again.” He braces his wrist with his other hand.

Steve resets and punches again, drawing back once the block has been struck.

“Again,” Thor orders. “Follow it up with the other, and breathe out as you strike.”

Steve punches with a sharp exhale, then twists at the waist to punch with the other hand, leaving as little gap as possible. He draws back to protect himself again, at the ready.

“You favor your right hand,” Thor says. “Your aim is lacking in the left. Strike with that.”

Steve obliges, punching with his non-dominant hand.

“Better,” Thor says, walking around beside Steve and leaning in so they’re almost ear-to-ear. His hands slide around Steve’s waist and turn him slightly. Then he points off to the horizon. “You see where that strip of land ends?” Steve nods. “That’s where I want you to aim. Ten punches, then turn your hips to lead with the other leg, and repeat. I’m going to make some lunch. I won’t be long.” Thor kisses the back of his neck and draws away.

“At least you didn’t ask me to wax your car or paint your fence,” Steve grins wider than he has in weeks and sets his eyes on his distant marker.

Thor chuckles as he walks back up to the house. “Keep going until you get tired,” he instructs. “You’ll be catching flies with chopsticks before you know it.”

Steve gives his head an amused shake before straightening it again and starting his reps, puffing out deliberately with each punch. When the ten are over, he hops lightly on his feet so his other leg is slightly in front, and starts over again. And again, and again, until he hears the door close and Thor pad down the grass from behind.

A finger draws down his spine to his lower backs, where Thor rests his hand and wraps it around Steve’s waist, drawing him away from the horizon and down to the towel where he’s spread their lunch. “Stretch first,” he says. “We’ll do kicks tomorrow.”

Steve’s smile brightens once more as he lays down on the towel to stretch his arms and shoulders thoroughly, all the while Thor admires him shamelessly. “Watcha lookin’ at?” he smirks as he finishes, rolling onto his side and propping himself up on one arm.

“The view.” Pleased, Thor eats a strawberry.

“To be honest, I though this might be a ploy to get up close and personal,” Steve raises his eyebrow. “You know, wrestle in the sand.”

Thor laughs. “You and I both need to practice some before we do that,” he reasons. “However, if it’s wrestling you want, I will happily wrestle you in the sheets this evening.”

That  _ does _ sound good. Steve lets his opinion be known with a wanting expression.

For now, they’re content to wait for nightfall to retire to bed, instead making good use of the weather. Once they’ve rested off lunch, they go for a swim. There is no tackling, and certainly no chasing, just casual swimming with a some more precise exercises for Thor’s arm.

The hours wash by, and night couldn’t come sooner; as soon as the dishes are washed, they’re back in the bedroom and tangled in each other without any fuss. Barely a word is spoken, only when Thor cuts Steve off and insists on giving again. But tonight, Steve wants to have his hands free to roam around Thor’s body while the other man is inside him. Other than that, not much else needs saying, other than the ample declarations of pleasure that Steve yells out. Thor too.

Sex is less one-sided this time, so both of them are too tired to bother cleaning up much. Almost the second Thor has pulled out and is rolling onto his back, drawing Steve onto his chest, they’re asleep.

Dreams are minimal. Steve gets up once again feeling better than before, and ready for the day. They both shower off last night’s endeavors, and Steve changes the sheets while Thor makes breakfast. Then they’re back on the beach, back to Thor’s lessons.

Thor is right; this  _ is _ a good idea, and it does help. It’s a purpose, it’s practical, and it’s fun.  Plus Thor is a good teacher, a master of his craft. He gives straight-forward advice, explaining clearly what Steve does well, and what needs improvement. His orders are direct and precise. Steve soon finds himself undertaking balance exercises to strengthen his core and his legs, which Thor practices alongside him. If there were ever a place to learn whatever combination of martial arts this is, it would be on a warm beach.

\--

On the morning of Thor’s doctor’s appointment, it’s raining. For the first time in a little while, Thor struggles to get out of bed, and his limp is pronounced. He can’t straighten out all the way, nor move his arm very far off his chest. Steve helps him get dressed, easily slipping back into the role of caretaker he hasn’t had to undertake for weeks. Unabashed, Thor accepts the help, braving through the temporary set-back like the fighter he is.

With some rest, the worsened ache will go away, and Thor will be back on track for recovery. Steve wishes it were this easy for  _ him _ to accept help the way Thor does. Shamelessly, Thor takes his cane off the hook as they leave the house, leaning his weight into it the way Steve needs to learn to lean his weight into other people. It’s been getting easier, but he wishes he were better at it. Better at asking for help, instead of making other people guess what he needs, or dig for the answers. Steve thinks on that while he drives through the building rainstorm.

The doctor, a long-time friend of Thor’s, doesn’t ask questions about his injuries other than to find out what might be wrong. Steve watches and listens and adds what he knows if Thor can’t answer. The healing process is coming along as well as it can, and the doctor tests Thor’s arm for himself, pushing it farther than Steve is convinced is safe.

“More surgery is a possibility,” the doctor explains as he types up a request to send to the hospital for x-rays. “But I recommend you wait a few more months to see how it does. If you’re continuing to improve, it probably isn’t worth it, but if it gives you too much trouble, call me.”

Thor doesn’t seem to mind at all, nodding his gratitude and taking the sticky note the doctor writes their next appointment on. He gets up to leave, and together he and Steve walk to the café for lunch before heading over to the local hospital.

“Would you?” Steve asks as they duck under the awning and wait in line. “Get more surgery, I mean...”

Thor shrugs. “Maybe,” he admits. “If the odds were good, I might.”

“You don’t seem that worried,” Steve remarks. “I mean, I’m glad...”

Thor smiles and pulls his arm off his chest without disturbing his shoulder much, lacing his fingers with Steve’s. “It doesn’t bother me,” he says. “I’m happier than I’ve been in years, and the functionality of my arm won’t change that.”

Steve smiles back. “Good.”

“I’m a little surprised myself,” Thor shrugs casually. “Sometimes I ask myself if I’m... bottling the feelings away, but I can’t find them, so I must assume they aren’t there.”

“That’s good,” Steve agrees. He couldn’t be happier that Thor is content, despite bearing an injury – several – that will hinder him forever. Come to think of it, Thor is  _ extremely _ content. If he weren’t so covered in scars and tattoos, Steve would doubt the man was actually an agent. Thor has softened, come out of himself, shown his true colors in full. Sure, he’s got some issues of his own, the physical ones aside, but he’s such a different person than he was when he dragged Steve through that farmhouse months ago.

But isn’t that reasonable? The man Thor needed to be that day is very different from the man he needs to be now; on the battle-field, there is no place for this sort of slow tenderness Thor has shown him. Steve is just glad he got the chance to meet who Thor really is.

Of course, Thor is strong and capable. Confident. Those things never went away, they just show themselves differently to meet the need.

In barely any time, Thor gets his x-rays done and walks back out to meet Steve in the waiting room. The doctor will call with information if he has any, but for now they’ve got only the usual list of exercises to worry about. Once inside, Thor flops on the bed to rest, covered in heating patches that Steve carefully sticks to the sore spots on his body. They spend a rare day entirely inside, eating dinner in bed while they watch the storm carry on through the window. 

Thor is too achy to get up  to much tonight, happily accepting the offer to share a hot bath and groaning low in pleasure as he sinks into the water. Steve rubs the tension out of Thor’s muscles, and gets them both clean. For the first time in a while, Thor sleeps on his back, and Steve lays across his chest contentedly. It was a good day.

The storm fizzles out late the next morning, but it’s warm enough to go outside even as the last few rain-spitting clouds linger. Thor takes his cane with him to the beach, fighting a lingering stiffness that prevents him from participating in the day’s activities as he usually would, but that should be gone by tomorrow. For now, he’s happy to show Steve his next lesson, while he keeps a watchful eye on the progress. They’re building up slowly, solidifying the foundations before learning anything more difficult than a few basic kicks and punches, and some blocking techniques. Day-to-day, Thor has Steve rotating between upper and lower body, practicing the same movements over and over again so that his body can learn and repeat them without having to think. When Thor feels better, he joins in, and together they work on building up their strength and flexibility. Both of them need it; Thor may be a master fighter, but his muscles and joints need to get used to the foundations again before he’s able to do what he used to.

Both of them are putting on weight. Steve doesn’t notice it at first, but one morning he spots the way Thor’s shirt sits on his body a bit different. Steve’s shirts, too, crease differently when he looks in the mirror, the sleeves less loose around his arms and the fabric spread more smoothly over his chest.

Today, Thor squares off in front of him, inviting Steve to take up his own stance. “I thought we might spar today,” he says. “As a benchmark for your progress. And for mine.”

Steve smiles. “I won’t go easy on you, just because you’re not at your best.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Thor responds, sliding his good leg back and sinking his weight into it, raising his arms.

Steve raises his, too. “I’ll try not to hurt you.”

“Try as hard as you like,” Thor grins.

At first, Steve takes it as a joke, laughing and throwing the first punch. He starts with a slow one, wanting to gauge Thor’s ability as well. True as it is that Thor is the far superior fighter, Steve would never forgive himself if he accidentally hurt his friend.

But Thor blocks the punch with his good arm, bouncing Steve’s wrist off the soft flesh of his forearm and striking out with his right fist in return. The blow doesn’t snap out with as much power and distance as it could without Thor’s shoulder to inhibit him, so Steve doesn’t bother so much with dodging as he does with attacking while the punch is being thrown. Before he can strike out, Thor is kicking low with his right leg into Steve’s shin, off-balancing him and taking him by surprise. Thor grabs with his left hand and pulls Steve toward him, turning Steve around as if they were dancing, their linked arms wrapped around Steve’s neck, and his shoulders held firmly into Thor’s chest. Thor jams a knee into the back of Steve’s, dropping him into the sand without letting go of their arms. They fall, and Thor turns onto his side, rolling until Steve is on his belly, and Thor is pressed on top of him, effectively pinning him down.

“Okay,” Steve chokes, patting the sand with his free hand. “Okay, you win.”

Thor doesn’t keep him on the ground long, helping him to stand and appraising him with just a hint of satisfaction. “Well done,” he says.

Steve shakes his head with a bashful smile and brushes sand off his knees. “Me of all people should know not to underestimate anyone...”

“Your perception of my abilities was based in reason and concern,” Thor replies in good humor. “Think nothing of it. We’ll try again.”

Steve gets another  chance, one he won’t squander. He follows Thor’s lead and squares up.

Thor knows how to use his weak spots to his advantage, so Steve tries to forget they exist altogether and attack as he would anyone else. Without adrenaline or the element of surprise to help, he’s got to come up with a strategy on his feet. He starts with a punch, swinging it at Thor’s head without being able to convince himself to strike as if he needs to. His arm is slow and hesitant, and too easy for Thor to block. There’s a huge gap, too, one which Thor points out to him with a light punch to the ribs. Steve quickly pulls his arm back to protect himself.

The patient, watchful teacher, Thor doesn’t attack as swiftly and efficiently as Steve knows he can, instead reaching out to test the waters and give Steve the chance to do the same. This time, they manage a little bit of back-and-forth, exchanging blows that don’t exactly get them anywhere, but that makes for a good warm-up. The strikes gradually get faster, on both sides. Thor is skilled enough not to strain his injuries at this pace, doing what he can with his healing limbs while protecting them from Steve’s blows. It’s rather impressive, and eases Steve’s worry that this may be a bad idea; one wrong move could set Thor back weeks of progress.

Steve grows bolder with his attempts, and faster, kicking for Thor’s hips. Thor sees it coming and turns away, pivoting on his leg and then shuffling forward to kick sideways. He leans back as he aims for Steve’s stomach, but Steve manages to throw down his arm and block. A thought crosses his mind to grab Thor by the ankle and pull, but he misses his chance in his hesitance and takes a hit for it; Thor punches through the opening and hits him in the ribs.

Determined, Steve reminds himself to focus, and just try his hardest.  Surely he can do better than this. He strikes out again, which Thor blocks, but doesn’t stop there, aiming with his other arm. They exchange blows, blocking each other until finally Steve’s fist cuts through Thor’s defenses and lands. It’s not a square hit, but it’s enough: Thor gasps and stumbles back a pace, clutching his shoulder as he loses his balance and falls with dull thud in the sand.

Fear lances through Steve’s body and lurches forward. “Thor! God, I’m so sorry...”  _ Shit. I knew this was a bad idea... Fuck... Please let him be okay. _ He comes closer and gets to his knee, reaching out worriedly with his hands while Thor holds tightly onto his shoulder with his eyes shut and his teeth ground together. “Fuck, Thor, I’m sorry... Are you okay-?”

For a moment he feels like he’s about to burst into tears, but the feeling quickly vanishes as Thor rolls over, loops and arm under Steve’s belly and grabs his arm, and throws him. Before Steve knows what’s happening, he’s landing on his back with a breathless gasp, and Thor is on top of him, wrangling him face-down once again and holding him there.

Steve pants and smacks the sand with the hand currently not twisted behind his back, breathing out something of a plea for mercy. Thor lets him up, and they both appraise each other.

Thor is fine, rolling his shoulder a little and dusting off Steve’s chest with an expression torn between guilt and triumph.

“That was mean,” Steve whines, shaking sand out of his hair.

“Perhaps,” Thor admits somewhat bashfully. “You were overtaking me. I had to win somehow.”

“ So you used my love for you against me,” Steve sighs in defeat. “What was I supposed to do, keep punching?”

Thor shrugs. “You hit me in the chest. I thought you’d have noticed you were miles off my shoulder.”

Steve pouts. “Sorry for caring. Are you really okay...?”

“Perfectly,” Thor smiles. “And you did excellently. Perhaps you’ll forgive me if I show you some new moves...?”

Steve rolls his eyes and fights not to grin. “Okay. Fine. I’ll let it slide this time.”

“Wonderful,” Thor grins. “Come, I will show you.” He takes Steve’s hand and leads him down into the water.

Water is a great place to learn harder moves at a slow pace. It’s a great place to practice throws and take-downs, too, without worrying so much about falling. If they go deep enough, Steve can easily lift Thor and throw him without needing speed to accomplish it. It means Thor can demonstrate too, without straining his injuries while he lifts Steve. It’s a simple move, but an effective one, relying on off-balancing someone at the hips and throwing them over one shoulder. 

The lesson continues until lunch time, where they stop for a well-earned break in the shade with cold water and sandwiches.

Thor looks over at him partway through the meal. “Steve...?”

“Uh huh?” Steve looks over, taken by the pensive nature of Thor’s stare, especially the flavor of uncertainty paired with hopefulness somewhere in there. It’s a look he’s never seen Thor wear before, and he raises his eyebrows at it in concern. “What’s up?”

“Earlier, you said... Do you love me?”

Steve knows the answer to that more surely than he’s known a lot of things. He smiles and puts down his sandwich, reaching out to touch Thor’s bristled jaw and guide him closer. “Yeah,” he says gently. “I do.”

For a moment they’re leaning into a kiss, but Thor hastens the approach and tucks his head into Steve’s shoulder instead, hugging him. “Me too,” he says. “I love you too. So much.”

“I love you.” Steve has to say it properly too, and it feels good. He’s loved before, but not like this. There’s never been a guy like Thor to love. He sighs contentedly and leans into the hug, wrapping his arms protectively around Thor and holding him. God, he’s so lucky... He’s not sure what he’d have done if the man who had rescued him were totally different. Maybe they would be dead. Steve would be, certainly, because more than anything, it was Thor’s selfless decision to accompany him to SHIELD that saved his life. “God, you’re amazing... you know that?”

Wordless, Thor laughs into Steve’s shoulder and holds him tighter. They make such a good team...

Steve goes to bed that night feeling... different. It’s one thing to show love, and another thing to commit to it out loud. Of course, the showing part is more important than the telling, but it matters to say it out-loud, too. Like a declaration, a promise that the showing part will continue.

That night, when sleep evades him, Steve finds himself once again sitting up in bed, covered in sweat and trying to find the anchors that will keep him from being yanked away from what’s real. As he catches his breath, he looks down and sees Thor sleeping there as always, strangely adorable in his state of complete relaxation. The very idea of what he’s going to do makes Steve’s heart beat faster, but he makes himself do it, wiping his eyes and gently shaking Thor by the hip.

Thor grunts and shifts in his sleep, but when he settles again, it takes all of Steve’s willpower to shake a little harder and open his mouth. “Thor,” he whispers, just once. It’s all he can manage.

Thank goodness it’s enough, though he still can’t help feeling guilty when Thor blinks his eyes open and looks up at him, frowning and sitting up in the darkness. “What’s wrong?” he asks, of course free of judgment. Steve shivers and flops into Thor’s arms.

“Can’t sleep,” he croaks. “Bad dream.... Woke me up. It’s... it’s fine, I...”  _ I can just go back to sleep. You sleep too. Just hold me, and I’ll be fine. _

Thor hugs him tighter and pulls them both back down, rubbing up Steve’s ribs with a warm hand. His voice is low and comforting, resonating through his chest and into Steve’s back. “What happened?”

“The usual,” Steve sighs. “They killed you and they tortured me.” He tries to be casual about it for his own sake, but the words still come out hoarse and his chest still tightens. He shivers again and huddles deeper into his boyfriend. “It was horrible,” he admits quietly.

“What would help?” Thor asks readily. “Something to drink? Or a shower...? I have some books... I could read one of those to you...”

Steve smiles and huffs his amusement, but that might actually help. “Okay,” he agrees weakly, but without any lack of gratefulness. “Please.”

“Of course,” Thor kissed his shoulder and gets up, turning on the lamp. He leaves the bed and returns in short order with a paperback, sliding back under the covers and gathering Steve in his arms. Steve rests his head on Thor’s shoulder and stares at the pages as Thor opens them and starts to read.

The story itself doesn’t matter much, just that it’s something else to fill his head with. That, and Thor’s deep, soothing voice that serves as the anchor he needs. The dream is washed away by depictions of fantasy worlds, and soon, that’s all he can see. After a few pages, Steve falls asleep, and he does not wake up until morning.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life can't be smooth forever, not even in paradise.
> 
> Thanks for reading everyone!

December is rapidly approaching, and with it, consistently-hot weather. That means that training can continue. Thor was right: his plan was an excellent idea. Steve has tackled his lessons with all his strength, and it shows. It certainly encourages Thor to keep up, too. Every morning, they’re down on the sand rehearsing moves, and sometimes sparring to practice them against each other.

Steve has put back on all the weight he lost, and then some, all of it healthy and glorious. Thor can barely keep his hands to himself, awaiting the next moment he gets to grab a nice handful of pec or ass or run his fingers and tongue down the deepening groove in the center of Steve’s torso.

Better than the muscle is the health shining from Steve’s face; the dark bruising under his eyes is gone, and his smile is now commonplace, rather than a rarity. What happened will never stop haunting him, but at least he’s able to function now –  _ thrive _ .

Both of them still get nightmares, Steve more-so than Thor, but they get through them. They’ve started picking up paperbacks from the used book store when they go into town. They've started reading a little before bed, instead of just when one of them wakes up in the middle of the night. Usually, it’s Thor who reads, but sometimes Steve returns the favor, and it’s equally as effective in soothing him off to sleep if he needs it.

Of course sex helps. And the sex is _good._ _Damn_ good. Steve is a hearty lover. And a giving one. Sometimes _too_ giving for his own good, losing himself again to his need to serve. Steve hasn’t fallen into the same problems they were having when he was falling apart, but sometimes it’s apparent that he’s particularly distressed, and his fingers will shake and grab. On those days, when Steve’s patience is thin but his desire rampant, Thor brings him down from it, tying his wrists to the bed and reminding him to just relax. Steve gives up control. Of course, they do it for fun on occasion, if they’re feeling particularly driven, or Steve is being especially cheeky. He likes to tease, Thor likes to impose idle threats of restraint, and they escalate the banter until Steve is wrestling him playfully, daring him to hold him down. Which Thor does. Steve likes to have all pressure relieved, and Thor likes to make Steve yell and squirm and enjoy what he deserves without the need to give anything in return.

But Steve does give sometimes; just as they promised, they do it both ways, all ways, any way that takes their fancy in the moment. There’s rarely a plan, just a desire. And that’s all they ever need.

Thor is starting to fill back out into the shape he’s used to being, too. It wasn’t a concern, but he has to admit it’s rewarding to see his body strengthen and widen as he works and heals. He won’t ever be the same, probably won’t ever get back to the size he was because his arm just can’t take that sort of strain, but he’s healthy, and he feels better than he has in years.

Every now and then, he calls his brother, and sometimes Loki even calls him. Always with brisk and forward questions about his health, but slowly growing gentler and more casual until the two of them are chuckling about days gone, or what they’re up to currently. Loki usually asks to speak to Steve, which Thor suspects is partly to corroborate anything Thor has told him, but also because he truly seems to care about Steve as well. And Steve gets to talk to his family, too, let them know he’s alright, and make sure they are too. It’s too soon to reintegrate into the world safely, but everyone is safe and happy, and that’s enough.

Christmas is just a few weeks away. It’s something to think about, at least. Thor’s never celebrated it, or at least not since his mother died and the family split apart, but maybe Steve would like to do something. He mulls idea over as they move into December, but doesn’t bring them up until a couple of days in.

That’s the morning he wakes up feeling... odd. Thor yawns, wincing as the motion tugs on his throat and alerts him to its soreness. He rubs his eyes and sighs, sitting up and looking over at Steve’s sprawled form, the smooth, lightly-tanned skin of his back brushed with early-morning light. The sheets are drawn over the curves and grooves of his body, his face squished into the pillow as he slumbers on, oblivious.

Thor smiles and gets up, always pleased when Steve sleeps in, even if  it's only by a few minutes. It’s good for Steve, and it’s a beautiful sight to see, one Thor could never get tired of enjoying. Gently, he tucks Steve under the blanket and slides quietly out of bed to make some breakfast.

It’s a been a while since Thor’s had a hair-cut, so he usually has to tie some of it out of his face. It’s almost long enough to draw all of it into a ponytail, just as thick and golden as he remembers it being before he started keeping it short. That was many years ago. Now, it gives Steve something to get a grip on when they get down to business, or to run his fingers through during the quieter moments.

Thor turns on the stove to cook some eggs and sausages. It’s been rainy the last few days, but the weather has cleared up, so they can spend even more time outside than they did when it was pouring. A bit of rain isn’t enough to deter either of them.

“Hey there sunshine,” Steve appears in the hallway, walking around to join him at the stove and offer a kiss. “Beat me to it again.”

“You’ve been sleeping well these past few days,” Thor smiles, turning his head so he can accept the peck on the lips.

“Rain helps me sleep,” Steve shrugs, going about setting the table and pouring them both some coffee from the pot that’s just brewed. “I like the sound of it.”

Thor hums in agreement, and it catches in his throat, but he swallows it. “I was thinking,” he says, “that perhaps we should do something for Christmas.”

“Oh?” Steve holding up the plates one at a time so Thor can slide eggs onto them. “I’d like that. What did you have in mind?”

Thor shrugs and turns off the stove, leaving the pan to the side and dropping some toast on their plates as he joins Steve at the table. “I’m not sure. It’s been a while for me. All I know is that Christmas is for family, and we should have yours over.”

Steve raises his eyebrows as he brightens. “Yeah? That sounds good. I’m sure they’d like that. Nicer here than in England this time of year. And what about your family? I mean, my family is your family, but are you gonna invite Loki too?”

“I will,” Thor agrees. He hopes his brother takes up the invite. It might be a bit tight, all six of them in this house, but that’s fine. Worst-case, they find the others a hotel in town, which Loki might do anyway if he decides to join them. Sarah might prefer that, too, in favor of living in a house full of boys.

“Do you like turkey?” Steve asks as they clean up the kitchen together. “I’ve never made one myself before...”

“Turkey is good,” Thor agrees.

“Mom will help,” Steve assures, sliding a stack of plates into the cupboard. “Do you think we should get a tree?”

Thor smiles. “That would be nice.” It might be harder to track down a large, traditional  conifer , but they can always improvise.

“It’s  kinda of weird,” Steve admits, gazing out the window at the bright sun. “To be wearing shorts in winter?”

“You get used to it,” Thor promises. “Rapidly.”

No sense standing around inside admiring the weather now that the dishes are dealt with and their breakfast has settled; they hurry outside for today’s scheduled work-out, jumping straight into their warm-up. Thor gathers his hair out of his face again and takes a solid stance next to Steve, facing the ocean to being  their controlled punches.

Usually, they're in sync, even down to their respirations, but today Thor is struggling to breathe as deeply, and his throat is only growing sorer. They count out the punches, then move through a round of kicks together. As they start a rep of squats, Thor feels his nose dribble and wipes his top lip with his hand. 

A cold, perhaps. It’s a been a while since he caught something. Thor thinks little of it and finishes the warm-up alongside Steve, then moves into the lesson. It takes him a moment longer to catch his breath than usual, but it’s nothing he can’t work through.

Steve watches eagerly as Thor teaches him a new kick, which they practice together. As always, Steve is a quick learner. He’s in far better control of his long limbs than he was when they first started this ritual, and his balance is remarkable. His accuracy, too. Thor watches as Steve performs the jump-spin kick over and over again, swapping legs so he doesn’t get dizzy. With the sand beneath them, it’s easy to see that Steve is landing his feet more consistently with each repetition. Thor smiles, impressed. His leg is well enough that he can do the jump himself to show Steve the ropes, but is content to rest and watch beyond that.

After a lunch break of fruit salad in the shade, they get up to do more work, and Thor feels better, so he joins in more readily with the lesson. This time, he works through the techniques alongside Steve, practicing the new kick with the others Steve has learned. Not that he would mind laying down on the towel to watch Steve from a good angle, but Thor needs the practice himself, and he doesn’t want to get left behind. Steve will leave him in the dust if he doesn’t keep up.

The fatigue is coming back; he’s running out of breath sooner than usual, needing to stop before Steve does to take some deep breaths. For some reason, he can’t draw them as deeply as usual, and the effort is what draws out a cough.

Steve pauses, looking over. “Hey, you okay?”

Thor waves him off. “Fine,” he insists, spitting into the sand. “Just a tickle.”

“You’re  kinda white.”

“I just need to sit down,” Thor says. “You go on. I’ll have some water.”

“Okay,” Steve agrees reluctantly, but he doesn’t press, turning back to the ocean and resuming his practice while Thor trudges to the umbrella and lays down in the shade on his towel. He drinks some water and watches Steve’s long body twist and flex, enamored. This isn’t so bad. A break won’t kill him. The cough goes away.

It comes back the second he stands to meet Steve. Thor wipes his nose on his hand again and catches his breath, leaning his hands on his knees. “I’m good,” he reassures, looking up at Steve’s eyes which are closely inspecting him. “You did well.”

“Feels like I’m getting better,” Steve smiles, kneeling down to roll up the towels and hand them up. Thor tucks them under his arm as Steve shuts the umbrella, and they lace their fingers to walk back up to the house.

“You are,” Thor assures. “You’re doing wonderfully.”

“Thanks,” Steve smiles, opening the door and tucking the umbrella in the corner. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Positive,” Thor smiles back. “Just a little tired today, I suppose.”

“You’ve been working hard,” Steve agrees, wrapping his hands around Thor’s neck and pushing up on his toes for a kiss. “I’ll say it’s paying off.”

“I won’t argue with that,” Thor replies. His shoulder may still be too weak to manage one push-up, but everything is relative, and he can do a lot more with his arm than he could a month ago. The plateau may be approaching, but he's at peace with that.

He’s able to do everything he needs to, like help Steve cook dinner, hold him, touch him, and anything else he could ever need to do. He helps Steve now, chopping vegetables while Steve cooks some pasta and minds a pan of ground beef. Thor ignores his sore throat, laughing as they cook and eat together. Another cough slowly works its way up his throat, and he does his best to hold it back, but eventually he can’t help it. Steve looks at him with a cocked head and searching frown, but doesn’t bother him on it; a couple of coughs on their own are nothing to be worried about.

But Thor is tired, and that he can’t deny. Once he’s helped Steve clean up, he finds himself just wanting to shut his eyes and rest, a confession he doesn’t have to make out-loud. Steve follows him to bed, brushing his teeth and changing as well.

“Don’t worry about me,” Thor offers as Steve emerges from the bathroom, ready to join him in bed. “You can stay up if you like.”

“Early night sounds good,” Steve says, climbing into bed and laying down next to him, cuddling in close. “Kinda  wanna just... do this.” He sighs and takes up his usual position.

Thor has no objections. He reaches over to shut off the lamp, the movement nearly drawing out another cough, but he moves slowly to keep it from coming out and wraps his arm around Steve’s back, kissing the top of his head. “Goodnight,” he murmurs. Steve hums back, already starting to drift off. Thor isn’t far behind.

\--

“Thor... Hey, there you are.” Thor blinks open his eyes to find he’s on his side, staring into Steve’s face, which is leaning over him. A hand reaches out and presses into his forehead. “Thought so...”

Thor groans and stretches under the covers, but he can’t make himself get up. The sharp movement and sudden draw of breath does pull a cough out of his chest though, which is harsher than the handful from yesterday. Steve squeezes his shoulder, waiting patiently for the fit to stop. Thor swallows roughly, and he can feel something came up. “ Wha’s’up ?”

“ Runnin ’ a bit of a fever,” Steve smiles with upturned eyebrows. “You really slept in... It’s ten.”

“Ten?” Thor jolts. That’s late. He rarely sleeps in past eight. Again, the sudden movement jostles a cough out of him.

“Yeah, ten,” Steve says, pushing him sitting. “Clearly you needed it.”

He feels awful. Thor swallows again, unable to fully feel like he’s getting rid of whatever is lodged in his throat. Whatever was building up yesterday set in fast overnight. His throat stings and his face feels clogged.

“Breakfast is almost ready,” Steve says, offering his hands. Gratefully, Thor takes them, and hauls himself out of bed. 

Unlucky time to catch a cold, when the weather is so nice... Thor stares longingly out the window at the beach as he sits at the table and Steve goes to finish making breakfast.

“Fresh air would probably do you good,” Steve says, sliding a plate in front of him and resting a hand on his head, drawing Thor closer and kissing his forehead. “Hey, at least you didn’t catch it closer to Christmas. You should shake this long before then.”

That’s true. Thor sighs his thank-you and eats his breakfast despite lacking the appetite. It’s better than his injuries flaring up, at least in some ways. It’s getting harder to move without disturbing a cough, though, which depletes his already-minimal energy. At least he can manage to instruct Steve on what to practice, and observe from the shade. It’s hard not to drift off, and he nearly does.

The only thing that stops him is lunch time, which they both go inside to enjoy, Steve sitting him at the table to help prepare it. After a refreshing salad and lots of fluids, Thor finds himself shuffled off to bed, which he does not resist. Not when his eyelids are already drooping. The very act of lying down makes him cough.

“Go to sleep,” Steve urges, helping him get comfortable and tucking the blankets around him. He leans down for a kiss. “Call if you need something, okay? Otherwise, I’ll wake you up for dinner.”

“Mother-hen,” Thor mumbles, smiling to himself.

“Someone’s got to,” Steve replies in good humor. “Sleep.”

That, he can do, and it comes quickly.

When he wakes, Steve is taking his temperature with his hand again, and the bedroom is a lot darker. “Hey,” Steve says quietly. “Dinner’s ready... You were pretty deeply asleep, so I thought I’d wait to wake you.”

Thor rubs his eyes and sits as slowly as he can, escaping a cough this time. Not when he stands and starts to walk, though. It rattles in his chest, and he has to pull away from Steve so he can spit into the sink.

Steve quickly catches up, turning on the tap once he’s had a look. “We’ll watch it,” he says calmly, rubbing Thor between the shoulder blades. “I’ll get you some stuff at the store tomorrow, okay?”

Thor nods gratefully and spits again into the sink, wiping his mouth and following Steve into the kitchen for a light dinner and lots more fluids. Afterwards, Steve suggests a shower, and Thor readily agrees, sliding under the hot stream. The steam helps him breathe better, and when a couple of coughs come, he can spit right down the drain. Wishing he could stay longer, but knowing he’ll fall asleep if he does, Thor gets out of the shower and dries himself, not bothering at all with clothes and collapsing straight into bed. Steve is soon to join him, spooning him from behind and rubbing slow circles into his chest until Thor falls asleep.

\--

The next morning brings another late start, Steve hanging over him again to check his temperature and help him get up. Thor stretches cautiously, his joints popping like a sheet of bubble wrap squeezed in a fist. No matter how slow and careful he is, he can’t stop the cough that brings more gunk into his throat, which he can’t seem to get rid of no matter how hard he tries to spit it all out. After breakfast, Steve brings him back to bed and tucks him in.

“I’m going to get those groceries, okay?” he says, propping the pillows a bit higher and wrapping a cold cloth around Thor’s neck. “Your phone is right beside the lamp. Don’t get up unless you have to. I won’t be long.”

“ Sure I can’t come?” Thor asks.

“Sure,” Steve says, brushing some hair out of Thor’s face and kissed his forehead. “Just sleep. Deep breaths, alright?”

Thor nods obediently. “Thank you,” he croaks.

“See you soon,” Steve smiles softly, going in for one last kiss before reluctantly walking away. Thor listens to the door close and the engine start, sighing as the 4x4 drives off. The best he can do is shut his eyes and try to rest, which he does.

When he wakes up again, he’s managed to sleep for a few hours. As much as he wants to just lie there, with all those fluids Steve has been making sure he drinks, he has to get up. Thor moves slowly and pulls the cloth off his neck, taking it with him to the bathroom. He can’t wait until Steve gets home... It really does suck to suffer alone, even if he’s asleep for most of it.

Thor washes his face and tries to cough up as much gunk as he can before freshly wetting the cloth and limping back to bed. He can barely be bothered to pull the blanket back over himself once he’s draped the cloth around his neck and sprawled back on the mattress, coughing once more into the pillow.  _ This had better be fuckin’ gone by Christmas... _ Steve shouldn’t have to spend the holidays taking care of him. Sure, Thor isn’t keeping Steve from any events he might otherwise have gone to, but still. They should be able to enjoy themselves, and Thor looks forward to spending the holiday with Steve. It’s been too long since he got to enjoy Christmas with loved-ones. He wants to buy Steve gifts and eat lots of food with him. He wants to be normal and happy, and he doesn’t want anything to fuck with that.

Those thoughts inhabit his mind as he falls back to sleep.

When he wakes up, it’s to the sound of the front door closing, and plastic bags being set on the table. Thor props himself up with a wince, watching the door in anticipation, and finally Steve walks through it, once all the groceries have been put away.

“Hey sunshine,” Steve smiles. “Sleep okay?”

Thor nods and smiles drowsily back.

“You hungry? I know it’s late... I  shoulda made you something to eat before I left... Have you had any lunch?”

Thor shakes his head and rubs his eyes, sitting up all the way. “I could eat.”

“Bit hot for soup, but I could make you a smoothie,” Steve suggests. “That sound good?”

It does. Thor nods again.

“Okay,” Steve says, leaning in for a forehead kiss. “You stay here.”

That suits him. Thor flops back down, jolting out a cough. At least his fever is mild, and doesn’t feel like it’s getting worse.

Steve comes back with a pinkish smoothie in a tall glass and a handful of medication, which he gives over first, then offers the straw so Thor can take a sip of smoothie to wash them down. They’re only over-the-counter drugs, nothing too serious. The smoothie tastes good. Thor sits up a bit higher to drink it, and Steve sits beside him.

“This is good,” Thor mumbles around the straw. His appetite remains non-existent, as well as his interest for any flavors, but this is nice.

“Banana and strawberry,” Steve says.

One thing can be said, and that is there is no-one Thor would rather have to take care of him than Steve; Steve is calm, and he seems to know what to do. And of course, his company is enjoyable. Steve sits up in bed beside him, making sure he’s comfortable and reading to him from where they left off in their current novel. Thor lies there with his eyes closed and listens. Time doesn’t pass as slowly as he feared it would.

Steve rouses him for dinner, urging that he move around some more and stretch himself out. He helps Thor stretch his limbs, which helps with the soreness and stiffness. It does nothing for the coughing though, which starts up the moment he changes position, and is reluctant to stop once it does. No matter how much whatever-the-fuck-this-is he coughs up, he can never seem to clear out his throat. On top of that, his lung is rattling as he breathes. It’s subtle, but he can feel his chest crackle.

“That doesn’t sound good,” Steve remarks quietly after dinner, when they’re sitting on the sofa enjoying hot drinks that Steve is pouring liquor into. “Maybe not medically recommended... but it might help clear out your throat.”

Thor takes a sip of his alcoholic hot-chocolate, the burn of ethanol actually making his throat feel clearer, as well as up through his nose. That  _ does _ feel better. He leans into Steve to sip his drink and watch the sun go down, and Steve wraps an arm around him. Maybe this won’t last very long...

He clears his throat. “Hey Steve...?”

“Uh huh?”

“What do you want for Christmas?”

Steve looks over and peers curiously at him, mildly perplexed. “You don’t have to get me anything,” he says. “You saved my life and took me on luxurious holiday on a private beach.”

“I had a feeling you would be the difficult type,” Thor smiles cheekily back.

“Thor, don’t,” Steve laughs. “I’m serious! You don’t have to get me anything. I don’t know what I’d want anyway.”

“Good, me neither,” Thor tries to hide his grin behind his mug. He has an idea, but he’ll think on it.

“Really. I don’t want anything. I already have you.”

“I thought it was I who had you,” Thor argues. “We cannot both be the lucky ones.”

“Says who?”

Thor shrugs. “Someone somewhere, maybe. But perhaps you are right.” Being together is a pretty good gift. Thor does like the idea of having some presents to unwrap though, so he’ll find something. Even if it’s just for the sake of enjoying the tradition with someone. It could be as simple as a few of Steve’s  favorite fruits from the grocery store, but  surely he can do better. 

Feeling a little better, the drink adding to his drowsiness, he goes to the bathroom one last time before slouching back into bed. Steve levers him up and stuff another pillows under him, insisting the elevation will help, before crawling in beside him and taking up the position of big spoon again. Thor falls asleep with Steve’s long fingers massaging his chest.

\--

“I’m calling the doctor,” Steve announces as they stand over the sink two days later, staring at the brownish color of what Thor’s coughed up –  _ been _ coughing up all morning. And it took him far too much effort to walk here... he’s short of breath even when he’s lying down.

Neither of them is happy about it, but at least if he goes to see his doctor, he can get some stronger medication, which will help him recover. 

Thor has nothing to say in defense of the idea, limping back to bed on Steve’s steadying arm and lying down with a few more condemning coughs. Steve sits beside him and rubs Thor’s leg while he takes out his cell and dials the number.  _ They’d better give me the strong stuff, and this shit had better be over by Christmas. _

It doesn’t take long to set up an appointment. Steve hangs up and looks back. “They have a spot this afternoon,” he says.

The less time they have to wait, the better. Maybe if they’re quick enough, they can pick up any meds prescribed before they head home, before the pharmacy shuts. That would be best-case scenario. Thor shuts his eyes and hopes as Steve strokes his hair.

A short nap and a light lunch later, he’s in the passenger seat, wishing he could be out in the sun on a gorgeous day like this. He should be on the beach with Steve.

Reality is that he’s too tired to do much of anything, and that he needs more x-rays. More fucking x-rays, to see how much fluid is in his lungs. Judging by how he feels like he’s suffocating, he’d say a damn lot. And he wouldn’t be far off, because the minute the tech gets a look at him, then gets a look at the inside of his chest, he sends Thor to the Emergency room. It’s a quiet day in the hospital. They don’t even have to sit down in the waiting area before someone is ushering them through the doors and over to a bed, urging him to sit for a set of vitals.

\--

In less than an hour, he’s been admitted. The nurse is finished with the IV line, connecting it to some fluids until the right antibiotics can be prescribed based on the findings from the blood test. She checks the electrodes on his chest and the oxygen cannula in his nose before she leaves him to rest, drawing the separation curtain around the bed. There is no say on how long he’ll be here.

“I’m really sorry...” Steve says quietly, taking his hand. “ Shoulda taken you in way before now. Guess I was in denial.”

Of course it’s not Steve’s fault. Thor smiles back and shakes his head.

“Maybe I  shouldn’a let you out in the rain,” Steve smiles back ruefully. “We were out there a lot...”

That might have done it, being outside so much in the damp weather, exposing his weakened body to those conditions ripe for a lung infection to take root. Or maybe it’s just bad luck. “It’s not your fault,” Thor insists.

Steve sighs. “I know... Fate or whatever isn’t going to apologize to you, but at least I can.”

It’s the gesture that matters. Thor rubs his thumb across Steve’s knuckles. “It’s alright.”

“I really hoped it wouldn’t come to this,” Steve admits quietly.

“Pain in the ass,” Thor smiles. “You must be getting sick of me.”

“Only as sick of me and my problems as you’re getting,” Steve replies easily. “I just want you to be okay, that’s all.”

“I will be.”

“I know.”

“I’ve survived worse.”

“God, don’t we both know  _ that _ ,” Steve chuckles. 

At the very least, the burden is no longer all on Steve, and these medicines should do their work. Now that he’s on something stronger, he looks forward to being out of here soon, and feeling better. Thor shuts his eyes to sleep.

This hospital is a lot smaller and quieter than the last one he was in, and at least this time he doesn’t hurt so badly. He still hurts though. Thor’s changed his mind that this is much worse than just being sore, but now his injuries are aching. It’s not as bad as when they were fresh, but they’re there, reminding him that it’s probably their fault he’s so sick.

Poor Steve... This isn’t how their vacation was supposed to go. Instead of enjoying the healing properties of ocean air and salt water, they’re here. Steve is already insisting he’ll stay the night, leaving only to buy some dinner for himself so he can eat with Thor. The nurse offers to spare Steve a blanket and a pillow, but Steve gratefully turns her down in favor of climbing into bed next to Thor instead. Thor can’t say he’s disappointed to have his head rested on Steve’s shoulder. He turns a little into the embrace, willing all of this to be over swiftly.

For a while, he was blissfully content with his situation, even though his body wasn’t working right, and he was in some level of pain pretty much every day. But it was bearable, and he was happy – still  _ is _ happy, mostly; the frustration he knows he would have felt much sooner if not for the presence of friends and family is starting to grip him. Frustration that he’s so useless, and that the weakness he feels from his clogged lungs is making it impossible to even put up much of a conversation. On the plus side, he’s so tired he might be able to sleep though most of this, making the time go by faster, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s stuck here. Again.

And he doesn’t feel any better in the morning like he hoped.

“I’m  gonna run home and grab a few things,” Steve announces that morning. “I’ll be back. You want anything?”

Thor shakes his head. “You don’t have to rush back. I’ll be okay.”

“Maybe I’ll work out a little,” Steve acquiesces, gathering up Thor’s head to kiss him. “I’ll leave your phone with you.” He slides it into Thor’s hand and wraps his fingers around it, giving them a squeeze. “I’ll see you later.”

Thor smiles, hoping Steve will take a little time for himself. Besides, Thor’s just going to sleep anyway. As usual, it’s not that hard to fall asleep. 

Steve returns in the afternoon, promising that he took some time to himself, and that he’s eaten. He comes bearing gifts: a couple of books, a pack of cards, and a blanket from home. At the nurse’s suggestion, Thor gets out of bed to sit in an extra chair, and he and Steve play cards on the rolling table until dinner. 

“I called your brother,” Steve says over the sandwich he’s brought.

“What did he say?” Thor imagines it was scathing, though maybe Loki would have held his tongue for Steve. “What did you tell him?”

“I told him you’re in the hospital,” Steve explains. “I told him you’re sick, but not to worry too much. He asked me if you’re okay. Oh, and he told me to tell you to do as you’re told.”

“Don’t I always?” Thor smiles.

“You’re a better patient than I ever was,” Steve laughs. “I’d have no place telling you off. Not that I have to. I told him you were being good.”

“Much appreciated,” Thor smiles drowsily around the last spoonful of yogurt. It’s early, but he couldn’t care less, and he’s already starting to stand up before Steve comes to help him and make sure he gets back into bed safely and comfortably.

\--

Thor is certain he can shake this off within the week, but after a couple of days of IV fluids and antibiotics, he doesn’t feel like he’s getting better. Actually, he feels worse every time he opens his eyes, and it’s getting harder to get out of bed so he can sit up for a while. The fluid in his chest doesn’t seem to want to shake, no matter how much he tries to loosen it with the breathing and coughing exercises the nurse works him through, nor how much medicine goes into his bloodstream. 

Steve has packed a bag and gotten a hotel room so he doesn’t have to drive back and forth every day, and so he can rest in a bed and shower and change his clothes when he needs to. He’s taking care of himself, at least, as far as Thor can tell. Often though, Steve still sleeps with him in his bed.

On the morning of the fourth day, Steve leaves to get changed and find himself breakfast, promising to go for a walk and stretch his legs for a few hours. Thor bids him farewell and goes straight back to sleep as soon as his breakfast is done. He’s barely aware of the nurse coming to check on him a few times, but he does rouse when someone touches his shoulder to wake him, trying to get a reply out of him.

“Sir. Mr. Blake?”

_ Oh. That’s me. _ Thor draw himself awake and rubs sleep from his eyes. “Hmm?” There’s a man standing over him with a stethoscope.

“I’m going to listen to your breathing. Can you take a few deep breaths?”

He’ll sure as fuck try. They’re the most pathetic breaths ever, but he does his best to expand his lungs, trying not to cough as a result, which turns out to be impossible. The cold probe presses into his back, moving from one side to the other, and down.

The doctor looks unhappy as the nurse helps Thor lie down again. There’s talk of draining –  _ Good, drain that shit out of me. Shove a vacuum down my throat and suck it all out if you have to. The sooner it’s gone the better – _ but he doesn’t pay much attention to the details.

In a few minutes, he’s been moved to a more private room where more people join them, hands helping him get the front of the gown open and turn over a bit so the other side is more accessible. The skin is cleaned and an incision made, the tube slid in between his ribs and taped in place. They give him something for the pain, but it’s not that bad. The moment it’s over, everything is in place, and he’s alone again, he falls asleep.

When Thor wakes up, Steve is beside him again, a cheek squished into his palm, looking at something on his phone. He senses the eyes on him and looks up. “Hey sunshine. You gave me a heart attack. Took me a minute to find you.”

“Sorry...  Shoulda called you,” Thor pants apologetically.

“No, it’s okay. Just me being a worry-wart,” Steve smiles, kissing his forehead, a gesture that is always welcome. Thor likes it a lot more than he has the breath to say. Steve sits and pulls their current novel from his bag, hanging on to Thor’s hand while he picks up from where they left off. Things aren’t so bad when he’s just resting, able to at least somewhat ignore that his chest hurts and there’s a perpetual cough lingering at the back of his throat, waiting until the slightest disturbance to come forth.

When he has to move, either to sit in a chair for a while, or go to the bathroom, it hurts a great deal. Steve’s keeping on top of the exercises for his injuries, but they don’t entirely prevent the soreness imminent from spending so much time in bed.  Plus, with so many things attached to him, it makes him feel like that tangled-up sea-turtle again.

It’s been a week since this band has been on his wrist, and there are less than two weeks before Christmas. Time is moving differently than it was the last time he was in the hospital; not necessarily slower, but he definitely feels more urgent. It’s irrational, because he knows that he and Steve can set aside a special day together, not necessarily on the day marked by the calendar, but he wants so desperately to feel better and just go home. He’s tired of slowing them both down, and he’s just flat out tired. Exhausted. He misses his strength more than he has since he took the first bullet to begin with. He just wants to get up, put some clothes on, and go for a run down the beach with fresh air and strength in his lungs. He wants not to hurt for one fucking day, and not have his fucked-up body prevent him from doing the things he wants to do.

Things he’s finally been granted the chance to do. It feels like he’s being taunted.

“I brought you some of these,” Steve says when he comes back from the store on the ninth day, pulling a package of heating patches out of his backpack. “I thought they might help.”

Bless Steve, and his tirelessness, his uncrushable spirit. His tender hand and warm kisses. His calm attitude toward this whole thing, unburdened by the hassle, but resourceful in the face of it. He tears open the packaging and opens up the gown a bit further, peeling the backing off a patch and pressing it to the skin of Thor’s shoulder. God that feels good... Thor sighs contentedly as Steve sticks another to his leg.

“One for your back?” Steve offers, holding out his arm to assist. Thor lifts his arm so Steve’s can slide under it and help him sit, exposing the sore muscles. Heat leaks out of the patches and into his skin, relieving the aches and tension. Steve closes up the gown as well as he can around the tube and pulls up the blankets. “Doctor said the drain is helping,” he says, smiling with eyebrow raised in hopefulness. “He said you’re responding to the antibiotics a bit better now, too.”

That’s good. How long will it take for those improvements to be significant enough that he can go home? How long before he stops feeling worse and starts feeling better? The encouragement does help a little though, and he appreciates it. Steve isn’t one to butter anything up or give empty pep talks. He’s direct and practical, but he knows how to make everything feel as normal as it can.

“You’re  gonna be okay,” Steve says, coming in close and resting his hand on Thor’s head, rubbing his forehead with slow sweeps of his thumb.

From anyone else, it would sound like a formality. And before, Thor might have snapped back something about not needing those sorts of promises, but instead he just smiles. “You made me tell you that at the beginning. Remember?”

“Yeah, I do,” Steve leans his elbow on the bed and keeps rubbing. He rests his cheek on his fist, squishing it into his eye. He looks adorable propped up like that, smiling so gently with love in his eyes. “And I didn’t make you do anything – you told me that from the goodness of your heart, and you meant it.”

Yes, he’d meant it. Thor nods in agreement and swallows against the tightness in his chest that’s not just from congestion. “I’m sorry...” he whispers.

“For what?” Steve strokes back Thor’s lengthening hair and runs his fingers through it.

“Ruinin’ Christmas.”

“Aw, baby,” Steve’s smile widens a little, tainted with sadness. “Nothin’ to be sorry for, and even if there was, this isn’t your fault. Besides, you’re not ruining anything.”

“Should be at home,” Thor argues, determined to put up a fight even if he doesn’t have the breath to contend with Steve, even their stubbornness is on-par. “Should be... having a good time. You shouldn’t be stuck taking care of me.”

“I’m not stuck doing anything.” Steve is as firm as he is kind. “ So don’t be dramatic. You haven’t ruined anything, and I’ll never get sick of taking care of you, though I wish you didn’t need it. You’ll get better.”

“Might get sick again.”

“Then you do,” Steve shrugs. “You  wanna know who would get tired first, between me and whatever thing wants to fuck with you? Luckily for you, we don’t need to test it to find out: I can assure you I would win. Easily.”

“Cocky.”

“You like that,” Steve teases. “ So the only thing you need to worry your pretty little head about is resting, okay? I want no more talk about ruining anything, you hear?”

“Yessir,” Thor slurs. It puts his mind at ease, at least. Steve is good at that.

“Wherever we end up, or if we have to re-schedule, we’re going to have a good Christmas. I promise.” Steve leans over for a short but heart-felt kiss on the lips.

\--

There’s a little bit of shuffling around the next morning, which he doesn’t pay any attention to. Some people are talking, Steve has his hand, but mostly Thor just ignores what’s going on around him. Steve is speaking quietly to him, but he’s barely awake enough to hear it. Someone else is touching his shoulder, trying to rouse him.

“Hmm?” he inquires drowsily, quite content to keep sleeping if these people would just leave him be...

“Sir, do you know where you are?” a nurse asks him.

“At the beach,” Thor mumbles.

“Mr. Blake. You’re in the hospital.”

“Knew that,” he sighs. “ Jus’tired ...” He doesn’t follow much of what they say after that, perfectly happy to doze on. What he needs is a long, deep sleep, so long and deep that he’ll be fine when he wakes up. Sleep is the best medicine. Sleep and Steve’s mouth in his mouth, and other parts of Steve in other parts of him. Or the other way round... Thor looks forward to going home and getting back up to their shenanigans... He’s  gonna buy Steve a good present, a nice present...

“Thor.” A third voice, not Steve or the nurse, but one that he recognizes. “Thor, snap out of it.”

He forces his eyes to open, and Loki is at his bedside, staring down with arms folded. “ S’at for?” Thor asks, but Loki doesn’t hear him around the oxygen mask. “What’re you doin’ here?” he tries to speak a bit louder.

“Steve called me, so I got on the next available flight,” Loki explains, taking a seat and drawing up the chair. “I sent him home, by the way.”

“I’m sorry,” Thor shivers. He doesn’t have much breath, but he has to make sure his brother knows... “I’m s-sorry, I-”

“Thor, don’t,” Loki warns, but without any signs of his usual brisk way of showing he cares. His demeanor is entirely gentle, taking Thor’s hand and squeezing it. “Just don’t. I’m not angry with you. It’s alright.”

“You didn’t have to come,” Thor whispers, not capable of much else. “Why did you come...”

“Because you’re my brother, and I care about you,” Loki says calmly, laying his hand on Thor’s head.

“But-”

“’But’ nothing,” Loki cuts him off, still without any sign of sharpness. “Whatever it is you’re going to say, save it. I’m not angry. I just wanted to make sure you were alright.” Loki’s hands are smaller than his, smoother and more delicate, but strong in their own way, and sure. Precise. Loki has always been aware of his surroundings, always been controlled with his actions and his movements. This is no different, one hand stroking back and forth through his brother’s lengthening hair, and the other rubbing across his fingers.

“Thank you,” Thor sighs. Should he have thought any differently? Loki has a habit of appearing when he’s needed.

“You’re going to be alright,” Loki says, and again, Thor believes it. “The spread of the infection is slowing, but it has yet to completely reverse. If the doctors are correct in their calculations, you should start to feel better in a day or two. They estimate you’ll be able to leave in no more than a week. There will be strict conditions to rest, mind you, but it will be in time for Christmas.”

That doesn’t matter; if Thor has to sit on the couch the whole time, he doesn’t care so long as he gets to be home with all the people he wants to spend time with.

“You never do anything in half-measure, do you,” Loki sighs with a shake of his head, but his tone remains light and teasing, and there’s a smile on his face.

“You would get bored.”

“I would sleep.”

“Sorry...”

“I told you, that’s enough of that,” Loki chastises, giving him a light smack on the head, light enough that it doesn’t even disturb a cough.

“Sorry. For being sorry.”

“You’re pushing my buttons now,” Loki raises an eyebrow.

“Couldn’t help myself.”

“Go back to sleep,” Loki orders, bending down to kiss his brother on the forehead. It’s briefer than the forehead kisses Steve gives him, but just as caring. “You insufferable idiot...”

Yes, he supposes that’s fair... Thor shuts his eyes with a light smile on his lips.

\--

The treatments start to climb down again, one by one: the tube comes out from between his ribs first, sometime while he’s half asleep, and Loki is still the one on-guard at his side. The hole is dressed and the blankets wrapped more firmly around him. Next is the oxygen mask, downgraded back to the cannula, which he awakens to discover. Loki is also gone, back to the house to switch places with Steve.

Thor feels better. By no means healthy, but at least not any worse than before. He can sit with Steve’s help, and move out of bed and into a chair again, where he can sit for the duration of a meal before going back to bed, and back to sleep. He sleeps a lot, and he’s never alone. Loki will sleep in the chair beside him, or Steve will get in bed with him.

The pain meds and antibiotics are coming down slowly, and he starts to feel less groggy. Steve brings him his cane and he can walk well enough to get to the bathroom on his own. Steve still comes with him though, perhaps worried that he might trip over himself on the way there, which is reasonable.

In the few hours he gets to himself here and there, while he waits for his caretakers to swap, he pulls out his phone and takes care of business – this may not be the type of thing he can put in a box and put under the tree to be unwrapped like any other gift, but he wants Steve to have something to unwrap. Besides, it’s a practical purchase, in a sense, and one that will serve both of them. He smiles slyly to himself as he orders it, blushing a little when the nurse comes in and asks him what he’s so happy about. He just stares at her as he tries to think of an answer.

“Ah, glad to be going home in time for the holidays,” she winks as she connects more fluids to his IV line.

“Uh, yeah,” he agrees, which is true.

“Was that your boyfriend?” she asks. “The blonde one?”

“Yeah,” he smiles softly this time.

“Swell guy,” she remarks, writing down some vitals on her chart.

“You don’t know the half of it.”  _ If only you knew what that man has done for me... _ “I’m lucky.”

Lucky that Steve is willing to stick around and look after him. Not everyone would. Steve hasn’t even shown any signs of frustration, no matter how long this infection has clung to him, nor how many times before Thor has needed his help.

Steve is back again, cheerfully greeting the nurses and putting his bag in his lap as he sits. “You look better,” he says.

“Feel better,” Thor agrees. Finally. “How are you? Sleeping okay?” He hopes Steve’s nightmares aren’t making a resurgence because of this added stress. 

“Good,” Steve nods, and it doesn’t appear like he’s trying to hide anything. “I had a bit of a hard time for a few nights, but I’m alright now. And I’ve been eating too, I promise.”

“You look good,” Thor remarks, which is true; Steve looks as strong as always, his cheeks filled out with healthy weight, and his t-shirt sleeves barely loose around his biceps. His slender hips appear even more-so compared to the extra weight he’s gained in the chest and shoulders. God, he looks amazing... If he weighs more than Thor now, that wouldn’t be surprising at all. And Thor is quite pleased with the image of Steve taking him to bed and putting all that weight to good use.

“Thanks,” Steve blushes a little. “I tried to keep up our routines... Figured there was no excuse to slack. And it kept me busy.”

“Well you look amazing.”

“I look the same,” Steve blushes a bit deeper.

“No, you don’t,” Thor replies.

“I’ll blame the drugs,” Steve ruffles his hair. “Anyway, you’re going home tomorrow, all things prevailing. Doc said you were doing good. You’ll have to take it easy for a while, but you’ll make a full recovery.”

He’ll be out in time for Christmas, with a couple of days to spare. What a relief.

“I know, I’m happy too,” Steve is just as pleased. “Got a surprise for you when you get home.”

“I  thought we agreed no gifts.” Thor frowns, even though he’s already broken that rule.

“It doesn’t really count as a gift,” Steve shrugs.

“You’ve piqued my interest.” Thor raises an eyebrow. Just like that, his irrational fears and fairly-reasonable frustrations have melted away in light of today’s news. He’s going to be alright. This was, as Steve says, just a step back. He’s going to take another two steps forward as soon as he’s better. He can already feel that his energy is making a slow return, and his coughs don’t drain him empty anymore. But since he’s spent so much time in bed, his body is still sore, and it hurts a lot when Steve helps him do his stretches. With a handful of disturbing pops of his joints, he gets out of bed to sit in the chair and eat a late breakfast.

People of varying titles come in and out of his room that day, and the next, making sure his recovery is on track, and that he’ll be alright without oxygen. Thor is convinced that they’re letting him out a day or two earlier than they ordinarily would, given they’ve seen how well Steve takes care of him. Loki, too. Loki is the one driving him home on the day of his discharge, helping him get dressed into a clean set of clothes, and walk all the way down to the 4x4. It’s a long walk compared to what he’s been managing the past two-ish weeks, thanks to his breathing and stiff injuries alike. It’s going to be a little while before he can rejoin Steve on the beach again.

That’s fine. Once more, he finds himself not caring so much about that. At the very least, he knows he can look forward to getting back where he left off. The sickness itself isn’t permanent, just a temporary set-back.

They stop by the post office on the way home so Thor can collect his package, which Loki eyes suspiciously but says nothing of. The drive is mostly quiet, Thor clutching his package with anticipation until the 4x4 is parked outside the house, at which point he throws it into Loki’s hands so he’s free to hobble as fast as he can to the front door. Steve is already opening the door, opening his arms to accept Thor’s lunge into them.

Steve pulls him inside. “I could barely sleep, I was  kinda excited.”

Thor is touched to the point of blushing, hanging on to Steve to catch his breath and let out a few weak coughs. At least they aren’t so rattly anymore. When he looks up, the house has been decorated: there are colorful garlands strung up around the windows, and a small potted tree similarly decorated. A couple of sleeping bags are spread out on the floor off to one side.

Sarah Rogers is in the kitchen, and Tony and Bucky are on the couch, all three of them pausing what they’re doing to look over. Thor beams.

“Surprise,” Steve says.

The family is all here. Thor squeezes Steve tighter before pulling back. “I am surprised,” he confirms.

“Not that surprised, I hope,” Steve laughs, leading him over to the couch, where his friends make room. “We did talk about this.”

“That was ages ago. I confess I forgot.”

“Fair enough,” Steve smiles. He moves back, and Loki takes his place, a pair of scissors in his hand. He must have already hidden the package away somewhere.

Thor holds up his wrist, and Loki slides the blade under the paper bracelet, cutting it off. He’s free.

\--

Christmas is more of a whole weekend than one day. Thor sleeps deeply during the night, and takes naps throughout the day as he rests off the lingering symptoms. Otherwise, he’s up with everyone else, helping Sarah or Steve cook meals, laying on the beach or paddling in the water, or playing board games with everyone over drinks and snacks. Loki mostly keeps to himself, but he’ll join in with games. When the first one comes out, he starts by the window with a drink in his hand, but gradually works his way closer and seamlessly integrates himself into the game when a new round begins.

Everything feels wonderfully normal, as if they’d rented this house for their Christmas holidays as one big family.

Nobody has bothered with gifts, but everybody pitches in to make sure the food is plentiful and delicious. First thing that morning, Steve is up making pancakes with Bucky, laughing about past Christmases. Everyone sprawls in their pajamas to eat in the sun-flooded living-room, except for Loki, who is of course the only person dressed properly. But he does sit with all of them to eat, looking strangely relaxed and cheerful. He looks genuinely happy to be integrated with the family.

Everyone pitches in to make sure dishes don’t pile up, so they can be filled with food again when the next meal comes around. For now, they’ll play some games. Thor slides into Steve’s lap. The sound of his family laughing and exclaiming wins and losses doesn’t keep from taking a short nap.

Despite the heat, Sarah cooks a turkey for the sake of tradition, and no-one has any problem with that. It doesn’t matter that it’s too hot for mashed potatoes – Steve makes some anyway, and they’re good. Everyone sits at the table to eat, the sun still shining brightly inside. Nobody wants to go to bed, not even Thor, who has plenty of energy to keep up with the group for however long they decide to play games for. Tony makes drinks, passing around combinations of coffee, eggnog, and liquor, depending on preferences. The games become even more raucous, but there are no neighbors to disturb.

It’s very late when everyone decides to lope off to bed, all of them at least a little drunk, except for Sarah, who either knows how to pace herself, or can hold her liquor. Even Loki is pink in the cheeks as he slinks off to the spare room. Tony and Bucky are sprawled on the floor, and Steve manages to drag them at least near their sleeping bags, throwing blankets over them. His mother is spread out on the sofa, mumbling a goodnight to her son. Steve chuckles quietly and throws an arm around Thor’s shoulder, pulling him closer and kissing him as they stumble back to their own room together.

Steve sighs and falls on the sheets with a happy giggle, groaning as he undresses. Thor pulls the package out from under the bed and slides onto the duvet, on top of Steve, rolling them over so he’s on the bottom. He pushes the box into Steve’s chest.

Steve frowns. “Thought we said no presents.” He sits back and curiously thumbs the packing tape. Thor never got his hands on any wrapping paper, but he at least managed to peel off the shipping label.

“We did,” Thor says, sitting up on the pillows and pulling Steve into his lap by the hips. “I suppose it’s a little bit for both of us. It seemed like a useful thing to have, and I wanted you to have something to unwrap.”

With a loopy smile, Steve picks at the tape and manages to get it off, folding open the flaps and pulling out the brown packing paper stuffed inside. He pulls out a pair of padded leather cuffs, one for each wrist, that will secure well enough to the bed posts. His drunken flush deepens and he grins darkly. “Ooh.”

“There are a lot of other things I nearly bought,” Thor smiles at Steve’s expression. “You can buy a lot of things online.”

“I like them.” Steve inspects them, rubbing the soft inner layer of one cuff.

“Good. Perhaps we can test them, when you’re sober.”

“ Whyyy ,” Steve mumbles, abandoning the box so he can flop into Thor’s arms.

“You’ll enjoy it better.”

“Might enjoy it more.” Steve props himself up, staring longingly into Thor’s eyes before going in for the kiss. It’s a sloppy one, Steve’s hands grabbing under Thor’s shirt. “Maybe  _ you’d _ enjoy it...”

“Maybe I would,” Thor agrees, kissing back. “But another day, perhaps when your family isn’t around to be disturbed. We can get them a hotel in town for a few days.”

Steve nods wisely. “Yeah. My mama doesn’t need to hear that.”

“No, I don’t think she should,” Thor laughs lightly.  _ I’m not sure I could ever look her in the eyes if she heard the sounds that come out of you. Or the sounds you make come out of me. _

“Better wait, then,” Steve is on board. “Then you can fuck me  real good. This is the best present ever.”

Thor’s not so sure about that, but he’ll take it. Steve’s kisses slow down, and he flops back onto Thor’s chest, falling asleep so fast it’s as if he’s been drugged. His head is nestled under Thor’s chin, turned to the side, while the rest of him is loosely sprawled across Thor’s body. After a little bit of adjustment, Thor leans back with a contented sigh and turns off the lamp, wrapping his arms around Steve and shutting his eyes.

\--

The family stays for a couple of weeks before they say goodbye, at least for now. Loki is taking them to one of his homes in Spain, where they can have a little more freedom and see parts of the world they’ve never gotten to see. Loki will keep them safe, make sure all their needs are met.

“You will call, won’t you?” Thor hugs his brother goodbye.

“ Of course I will,” Loki smiles. “And you’ll call me sometimes too.”

“Of course,” Thor echoes.

Loki even allows Steve to hug him, accepting the other man’s thanks with good grace, promising to look after his family and quickly dismissing Steve’s  stammerings about not being able to offer anything in return. They are, Loki reasons, looking after each other’s families.

Once again, they’re alone. They’ve held off on sex for a while, even after Thor had mostly sprung back from his infection. But now that they have the house to themselves, there’s no need to hold back. It’s always more fun in the dark, with just the lamplight to guide them, but they can hardly wait for the sun to fully set before they’re in bed, making full use of those cuffs. It’s Steve turn to relax and let everything be taken care of. He fights a little, of course, but it’s all in good fun.

They’ll take turns in the future, but for now it’s Thor’s turn to take charge, to show how grateful he is for Steve’s company and care, to show his love. And of course, to have a bloody good time, with no-one to please but themselves.

\--

A lot can change in a year. 

“I see you got yourself an umbrella,” Fury says, coming to stand by Thor’s hip. They both stare out at the midday sky.

Thor tucks his arm under his head and stretches his legs out on the reclined lawn chair. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I thought I would come to check up on you,” Fury says, turning away from the ocean to look Thor in the eyes. “You look good.”

He does. He’s been working out, working hard, and his body is in good shape. Often there’s a background ache seeping from his scars, but mostly he can ignore it. More importantly, they don’t get in his way, for the most part.  Of course there are bad days, but they’re rare, and he’s never alone to fight through them. Steve takes care of him. Thor’s been putting on muscle, too. He’s not as big as he was, but he’s still big. Capable. And happy. Above-all, he’s  immeasurably happy.

“We’re still trying to take down HYDRA,” Fury goes on. “We managed to uproot some of their more obvious hide-outs, but they’re still out there. We thought you might be interested in a job.”

Footsteps approach, and they both look up to see Steve walking down from the house, a tray of sandwiches and drinks in his hands. He smiles. “Oh, hey. What are you doing here? Let me get you a drink.”

“No need,” Fury raises a polite hand. “I just came to check in, and run a few propositions by you.”

_ Careful. _ Thor stares warningly at Fury. This life they have is good, and the last thing it needs is to be disrupted by problems they’ve both nearly died fighting against. Steve looks between them as he slowly hands Thor a cold drink.

“You can always say no,” Fury sighs. “But I thought I would ask. We’re putting together a team. Just with people I trust. HYDRA is still out there, and we could really use your expertise in digging the last of them up. My options are limited.”

“And how many people  _ do _ you trust?” Thor asks, opening his arm to gather Steve under it

“Me, Agent Hill. Romanoff, Barton, you, Rogers,” Fury starts listing. “Stark, Barnes, and of course Mrs. Rogers. We managed to get a hold of Doctor Banner, too.” He looks at Steve. “Before HYDRA could. If you and Stark trust him, then so do I.”

A handful of agents, plus Steve’s family and project supervisor isn’t that many. Thor takes a sip of drink. “That’s not many people,” he remarks. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m retired.”

“You wouldn’t have to do field work,” Fury explains. “We could bring you on as a consultant. It would be a comfortable desk job.”

“And what about Steve?” Thor asks. “What do you want him for?”

“We’re in desperate need of an analyst,” Fury says, looking over to Steve. “Someone with expertise in tracking these bastards across the internet.  You would be safe, too.”

Steve looks over at Thor, apprehensive but... interested. He looks back at Fury. “I don’t know...” he admits.

“There’s no need to decide now,” Fury says, taking a piece of paper out of his pocket and handing it over. “Let me know when you make up your mind.”

Thor takes the number and folds it up, sliding it under a plate on the tray. “What are you going to call it, then?” he asks. “You can’t be SHIELD anymore.”

Fury smiles a little. “I’ll think of something.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well everyone, thank you for reading <3 Let me know your thoughts! I'm always interested to know whatever you have to say. What elements did you like? Which ones need work? What might you like to see in upcoming stories? I'm open to any and all feedback, and I always appreciate your readership.  
> If you did enjoy this story, I would really appreciate a comment! It helps encourage me to keep posting my work here.
> 
> If you like my content, I draw lots on [Tumblr](https://stormyandrescuer.tumblr.com/), as well as sometimes live on [Twitch](https://www.twitch.tv/sketchy_faye) (I also read old middle-school writing sometimes, and might play some games soon too!)
> 
> As always, thanks a lot, and I hope to see you again in the next one <3


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